Repeat In Various Forms
by neveraworsename
Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur DISCONTINUED
1. It Was Faith

Title : Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N: Consisto magicus means 'stop the magic.'

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Chapter 1: It Was Faith

Mum kissed my cheek, hardly having to bend down now, and said, "Be good, all right dear? I'm hoping for no letters this year about you correcting that Binns fellow or calling divination a load of shite."

I said nothing as Dad snorted, "I agree with her on that, Susie. That Trelawney sounds like a right bag." He hugged me, kissed my hair and said, "I want you to have fun this year, pet. Can you do that for your dear old Dad?"

I nodded, grabbing my truck and checking to make sure Crookshanks was tied securely, before pulling my rucksack tighter across my shoulder. "I'll try."

We entered the station, having always had a tradition of hugging and saying our goodbyes outside. There was no need for everyone to see us be emotional and cause a chain reaction. Mrs. Weasley always put up enough fuss for all the other parents combined. We casually entered the hidden platform, and watched the scarlet engine pull up and blow it's horn. Mum hugged me again, slipping my pills into my jeans pocket, and Dad glanced at his watch.

"About to pull off, Susie," He warned her, ruffling my hair. She nodded and said, "Don't forget, dear, your headmaster is letting you go to us the second Saturday of the month for your appointment." I nodded again, and headed onto the train. I saw a group of red-heads and I decided to avoid them rather than try to go past them. Talking to Ron right now wouldn't do me much good. He always managed to put me in a funk and I would be irritable for the rest of the week.

I ducked into an empty carriage, stowed my trunk under the seat, and let Crookshanks out. The bandy-legged cat jumped onto the window sill and curled up into an orange ball. I wished that I could relax like that. The barrage of pills they gave me could do nothing for me but put me into a lazy mood and that was the last thing I needed in Snape's class.

I laid out on the seat, staring at the ceiling. I felt as if I was in Dr. Benson's office and thought about talking about my feelings but even I wouldn't talk to empty air. I pulled out a notebook and started to sketch Crookshanks. He flicked an ear in my direction and went right back to sleep. I was finished soon and pulled my iPod out. I'd gotten it on a trip to America, when they were still trying to find something to entertain me and hold my interest. It didn't, but for long periods of time it'd keep the silence out.

When I turned it on, all I heard was static. I frowned before I realized that this was a magic train. I shrugged and pulled my wand out. There had been a spell I'd been dying to try out and I was now in the custody of Hogwarts so I waved it and said, "Consisto magicus." For good measure, and thinking of the rain, I said, "Protego." It was just like the hex but with a different wand motion to protect the object, not the caster. I pressed play again and was pleased to hear the first strings of "Hey Jude."

The only things that seemed to change were the rain, the shadows that threw themselves against the window, and the songs on my iPod. Sometimes, I saw someone pass by, looking for friends. Occasionally, I chewed gum. My parents would kill me for it, but it was flavourless and tasteless; just a white strip of nothing to help do something. I changed into my new robes and settled into the seat again.

I tucked the iPod into one of my many pockets, stuffed Crookshanks into his cage, and organized my sketchbook and pills into the rucksack. I wasn't that good yet, at drawing, but there was improvement to what I normally did. Practice helped.

The train stopped soundlessly, the only thing alerting anyone that we'd stopped moving the trees outside the window. I hurried out, next to a group of taller sixth years, stealing some of their umbrella space. I entered a carriage, only for Harry, Ron, and Ginny to come in. Harry, I didn't mind, but the youngest Weasley's irritated me. The black-haired boy gave me a smile but Ron yelled, "Well, where have you been? We haven't seen you at all on the train!" Here, he sneered, "Found some new friends that can help you study or something, Granger?"

Harry sat up and hit him on his arm, "Ron, mate, you don't say anything like that to Hermione! She's our friend, not someone to yell at!"

He was lost in the ringing of Ron's loud reasoning and I pulled a white ear-bud out. "I had things to do, Ronald. Getting into a fight with Malfoy, playing chess, and seeing how many pumpkin cakes you can stuff into your mouth wasn't exactly at the top of the list," I told him. His ears glowed red and he sunk into his seat, growling about know-it-alls. I nodded at Harry, who flashed me a thumb's up.

I felt the irritation try to muster itself up, but it gave up the fight less than halfway into it. I hardly felt anything beyond a yawning boredom and a sense that Ron was right. I wasn't good enough to be his or Harry's friend, and I always put a dampening on their fun. It saved their skins, but they probably would have figured something out.

The rain pounded against the top of the rig and I lost myself in the thoughts again. I'd had them before, usually when I was being picked on or talked about, but lately, nothing could kick me out of this hole. Soon, the carriage stopped and we ran out of the rain, slipping into the hallways slick with water and Peeves tossing water balloons at us.

I cursed at him as a particularly heavy one landed on my head, soaking my already frizzy hair and dribbling into my ears, "You bleedin' fuckwit!" Harry addressed him similarly, before giving him the one fingered salute.

On the other end of the hall, I heard Fred yell, "Damned Peeves! Stop! Your acting like a bloody wanker!"

He cackled above us, "Naughty, naughty children! Cursing at old Peevsey like that." The poltergeist then dropped more, making whistling sounds as he did.

The Bloody Baron floated in casually, and Peeves seemed to pale before disappearing. We were ushered into the Great Hall and a round of pepper-up potion was given to all of us with our pumpkin juice. The first years were herded in, sorted, and we all clapped accordingly. The tables were laden with food and I stabbed and poked at what was on my plate. I'd never had much of an appetite and most of it had disappeared this summer. No one else seemed to have this problem. A man with one eye and a limp came in, and although he ate from the head table, he drank from his own flask.

Then the plates were cleared and Dumbledore stood up, "Welcome, new and old students! This year a new line-up will appear. Our Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody, is here, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament is going to be held at Hogwarts this year, with the schools Beaubatons and Durmstrang participating." There were gasps, whispers, and plotting as he said that.

He continued, "As such, there will be no quidditch." The resounding shouts and yells made me roll my eyes. It was just a silly sport, not a life or death situation.

Personally, I thought he was mad and senile, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He said this next part looking mostly at our table, "The Goblet of Fire shall decide who goes in. No one under seventeen can apply. And this year, like every year, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all students unless Hagrid is with you." He smiled at us, "And now, I see tired eyes and sleepy yawns so your prefects shall lead you to bed."

I didn't get much sleep that night. I'd never slept a lot, but an hour or two was all that I usually did the first week or so at Hogwarts. The rest of the night was spent staring at the ceiling, or drawing. Not exactly the productive start my parents wanted from me. Although I didn't want to, I showered, got dressed, brushed my teeth so hard I bruised my gums, and headed to the Great Hall for a breakfast I wouldn't eat but I wasn't allowed to take my pills on an empty stomach.

I'd figured out how to charge my iPod by using magic as electricity so it was full and I listened to it at breakfast. Harry showed curiosity about it so I let him see it as I ate half a piece of toast before swallowing my handful of pills with some of the pumpkin juice. I offered him an earbud and we listened to "Just Watch The Fireworks" by Jimmy Eat World, an American band, as Ron came stomping in on his elephantine feet, laughing at something Lavender said.

Lavender and Parvati had recently discovered that boys weren't alien based life-forms and they'd gone from talking about their hair and nails to their hair, nails, which boys were cute, and who was going to marry who. It was a headache inducing change. Most of the time they were fun, if a little scatter-brained and would do their work after only a half hour of nagging. Sure, we were growing older but I really would miss them as they'd been during my second and third year.

Our time-tables were handed out and the entire fourth year groaned. Double potions with the Slytherins was no one's idea of a good evening.

"God," I said, "Snape's face up close is the last thing you want to see just before dinner." Seamus and Dean howled at what I'd said, and even nervous Neville giggled slightly before Snape caught his eye and he lost most of his colour.

Sitting in class meant that I had to actually do it. I found it repetitive, boring, and several times I nearly stopped in the middle of a wand motion. Both Flitwick and McGonagall stopped me and asked if I was all right. I said I was fine and slumped my way to my next class. If nothing else, arithmancy proved to be a good nap. I typically slept in it anyway since Professor Vector practically put the answers on the board. Runes tended to become English if I focused on them hard enough and I could sleep after that as well.

I'd have slept in DADA but Moody's constant shouts of, "Constant vigilance!" made it almost impossible.

The week passed in a blur of wand movements, homework, droning voices, and shouts. Later on, Parvati told me that I muttered, "Constant vigilance," in my sleep. I told her she talked about the 'great kill', something Treleway predicted once an hour about the ending of the human race by a surge of flobberworms, Hagrid's newest project. She hit me and I tickled her until she nearly wet her pants.

Potions, however, proved a different ball game. I was drowsy from my last nap and the pills, and Snape always demanded all our attention. I was yawning when he strode in and said, in his quiet voice that meant your ears had to be perked at all times, "Am I boring you already, Miss Granger, Mister Potter, to have you yawning? Or have your Gryffindor escapades finally caught up with you?"

Harry flushed angrily, and I would have pinched him if I felt up to it. Instead, I propped myself against the counter and stared at the board behind him. I narrowed my eyes at it; was it just me or was there a layer of grease on it? It seemed blurrier than usual. Then again, everything seemed blurry...

Parvati glanced back, always ready for drama and said, "Professor, Hermione doesn't look so good."

He glanced at me, "No worse than usual." The Slytherin's laughed at his joke and the world started to tilt.

Harry touched my arm, and called my name.

That was when I laid the side of my face against the cold, black counter, smashing my nose into it first. The taste of thick, coppery liquid going down my throat made me feel as I had as a child when I swallowed a fist full of pennies. Unpleasant but as if something might change, as if I would alert someone about me. It was hot in here, hot enough to be mistaken for Hell, and my eyes drooped even lower. It was black then.

Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey was looking me over. When she saw my eyes were open she tutted and said, "Miss Granger, this barrage of pills aren't self-medicated are they?"

I told her, "My parents sent a letter to Professor Dumbledore about it." Somehow, I get the feeling that the letter had been 'interrupted' along with the other changes over the summer. My parents were divorcing and as such, they'd sent a letter to Dumbledore about the possible effects on my attitude later on in the year according to Dr. Benson.

She sighed and mumbled something about Muggle's and Headmasters and proceeded to shove potion after potion down my throat. Apparently, she slipped in a dreamless sleep among them and I only realized I'd gone to sleep because the sky was black and Crookshanks was laying on my side.

Wide brown eyes stared down at me and I blinked before I sat up. An odd little creature, small, covered in rags, with bat-like ears and a beakish mouth looked at me before declaring, "You is Winky's new mistress."

I stared at it, "Pardon?"

"You's a powerful witch and you's charmed Winky betters, so you's Winky's new mistress," It nodded and sat on the floor. It shortly gave a hiccup and toppled over into a snoring sleep.

I shook my head and laid back on the bed. From here, there was a window and the stars were so bright I could make out parts of constellations. It was nice, being here alone. The unusual creature snored loudly and Crookshanks claws dug into the duvet before he crawled onto my chest, stared at me, then curled his head under my chin. Well, almost alone.

I closed my eyes again and wondered how many times Crookshanks purrs would sound at the same time Winky, at least I thought that was it's name, would snore. I was on four hundred seventy one when I fell asleep again.

The creature was still there the next morning with a tray of breakfast that looked wonderful but I found unappetizing. I shook my head but it held it's place and said, loudly, "If Mistress is to be in the hospital wing then she needs to eat or Winky will beat her head in with the tray."

So it was a girl, I thought. Madam Pomfrey came in, and said, surprised, "Miss Granger, I didn't think that you would be the type to have a personal house-elf. Aren't you a Muggle-born?"

I replied, "Yes."

"And?" She said, raising her eyebrow.

I shrugged.

She made a humming sound, "I'll have to check your magic levels as well then, after this potion and your physical."

I paled slightly, "Physical?" I was rarely examined and although Madam Pomfrey had seen me a lot in the years, never had there been a need to undress me.

She nodded, "Mister Potter mentioned your drowsiness and that you didn't seem to be up to your usual par this week. You've been given an excuse to miss classes if this persists until Monday, and your parents are on their way."

I nodded at her, swallowed the bronze liquid that burned, and she took her wand out, muttering spells and looking at a piece of parchment, before nodding, although she still looked puzzled.

"Very good, Miss Granger," She said, "but do you have any other witches or wizards in your family?"

I shrugged, "I thought we were all Muggles."

"The potion may need to be brewed again. Stand up and take your gown off," She ordered. Even with the warning, I found it extremely embarrassing to undress in front of her. The nurse's mouth pursed slightly, and she waved her wand at me, before looking at the parchment again.

Her frown became deeper, "How much are you eating, Miss Granger?"

I shrugged slightly, "I'm never hungry, ma'am."

She sighed again, and said, "An appetite provoker then." She went into the back again, and I put the flimsy gown on again. I wanted to be naked again, it was suddenly so hot. Madam Pomfrey came out, just as my parents came with the headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape.

The school nurse ignored them and watched me drink the potion, nearly gagging at the horrible taste. The leathery creature placed the food in front of me. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be instantaneous or what, but I still wasn't hungry. I shook my head, and pushed the tray back. I half-way wished I hadn't. The metal seemed to burn in my hands and I glanced at my palms, only to find that they were the same fleshy pink as before.

When I looked up from my hands, McGonagall frowned, "You gave her the appetite potion?"

The elder woman nodded, "Just now."

Snape looked at my parents and then me, "She doesn't much look like you two." McGonagall looked ready to hit him and Dumbledore's eyes didn't twinkle as much as normal. But then again, Snape was rarely subtle around his students.

I understood what he was talking about, though. My mother was only slightly taller than me, and Dad less than a thumb's length taller than her. Mum's hair was black and straight, and Dad's hair was almost as red as a Weasley's and also straight. The only way my hair could be called straight was if you cut it off and doused it with nuclear waste and even then it would probably fight back. They were both pale, which came from spending most days in their office. I had a 'Mediterranean complexion' as one of my primary school teacher put it, when doing a geometry lesson.

Mum's mouth thinned but she remained silent. Dad sat on the edge of my bed and stroked Crookshanks fur. Dumbledore stepped up and said, "So, what's the problem with one of our brightest students, Poppy?"

She sniffed, "A lack of appetite, an overwhelming urge to sleep, no ambition to do anything, and a sour disposition, most likely due to not exercising her magic enough."

Both of my teachers looked ready to spring to their feet and lash her. Snape growled out, "There is no need to do any silly wand waving in potions, as you well know Poppy."

McGonagall's teeth clenched so hard, I could see her jaw-line, "Transfiguration is a subtle art and any overeager student might hex his or her hand off."

She waved a hand, "I never said they weren't. I simply stated a fact."

"So what do you suggest?" Dumbledore asked her again.

The white-haired woman shrugged, "Normally, more classes but the last time that happened, it wasn't exactly pretty. I suppose a duelling class."

All the adults turned to her, "What?"

She rolled her eyes, "Magic is a temperamental thing and if she's holding in all her emotions, then her magic might not interact like it should. Duelling should help get rid of her frustration or whatever the problem is."

The woman turned to me, "Do a spell." I took my wand from the bedside table and waved it. The tray in front of me vanished. Winky grabbed her ears, howled, and twisted her hands until I thought her ears might pop off.

"Stop!" I yelled at her. She stopped moving, her mouth still open. I turned to Dumbledore to ask him what to do about her, but I saw he was also frozen. They all were. "Oops," I muttered then said, "Move."

Dumbledore rubbed his chin, "Wordless magic; very advanced, Hermione."

Winky's howls resumed and I covered her mouth. "Don't make me charm your mouth closed, Winky," I warned her. She stopped but when I let go, banged her head against the metal rails. I rubbed my temples; a headache was starting to form and the heat continued to rise. "Winky, stop doing that," I commanded. She stood straight up and remained silent.

Snape's eyes narrowed, "Why is she following your orders? Winky is employed with Hogwarts and as such, should only respond to the current headmaster."

I shrugged again.

"You have a mouth," Mum snapped, "Use it." I may have almost been her height, but I wasn't going to try her temper.

I said, "I don't know, professor."

He nearly sneered, "If you could be this buttoned-up when your parents aren't here, it'd be a blessing."

If your hair could lose a coat of grease or four, my entire House would praise you, I thought.

Dumbledore coughed in what could be considered a poorly concealed laugh before saying, "I think that's enough of that Severus. I told Winky if she found someone suitable, she could be their house-elf. Miss Granger is a responsible student," He paused, the 'most of the time' sounding in the air, "and of very good character. I think Winky should be fine."

He really was off his rocker. I'd tell Ron, but that meant I'd have to talk to him and that really wasn't a good idea. I wouldn't tickle him into submission like I did the other girls. That duelling thing was beginning to sound better.

Dumbledore smiled at all of us, "I think that settles things. Hermione will train with our resident duelling expert, the Bloody Baron, and Poppy will give her a few potions. Every week, she'll see Poppy and you'll get an assessment of her health."

The Bloody Baron was a ghost; how was I supposed to train with him being insubstantial?

The headmaster frowned, "I suppose I didn't think of that, Miss Granger. How does training with Severus sound?"

Snape gave me a look of pure murder. He would kill me and make it look like an accident.

"I'll train with the Bloody Baron," I piped up.

He shook his white mane, "No, no, now that I think about it, Alastor is the better choice."

My ears would ring for weeks, I was sure about it. And if they didn't, he'd probably get overeager and hex me ten ways to next Friday. The headmaster was out for my blood, I just knew it.

McGonagall stood up quickly, "I will not have her train with a paranoid ex-Auror who hexes everything that moves."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a little more, "Oh, not everything, Minerva. From what I hear, that cat wasn't really a cat and it deserved it."

"What'd it do?" Dad asked.

McGonagall looked at him dryly, "It looked at him on his blind side."

"How'd he see it then?" Mum asked, curious. There was a hint of dread to her face and I knew it was reflected on mine.

Snape snorted, "He didn't."

Forget off his rocker; Dumbledore needed to be in a loony bin with Moody in a cell next to him.


	2. I'm Affected

Title : Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N:

And, it's done! Don't expect updates like this often. To tell the truth, I had the first three chapters written, but they didn't come out like I wanted so I deleted half of this one and the third one. Maybe by next week the third one will be written but I don't count on it. AP World History is kicking my ass; anyone know how to write a DBQ?

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Chapter 2: I'm Affected

"Constant vigilance, Granger!" Moody shouted at me on my first lesson. I leaned back from the flying spittle and wondered exactly how long I would be with him. It was the Monday after the decision that I needed to take duelling, and it was going to be easy to tell that this was going to be trying. I found it unusual to be with a teacher in a class with just the two of us and for it not to be late. Detention, at least, I understood. His magical eye whizzed around the room, occasionally looking at me. "Do you know what that means?"

The room was empty of people except me, him, and Mrs Norris. The dust-ball sat in the corner, staring at me with lamp yellow eyes. From what I understood, she was to go get Professor McGonagall or Snape if he seemed a little to hex or jinx happy because no one trusted him farther than Ron could count. He seemed the type to hex first and ask questions when everyone was dead. There was a desk and a chair for him and a desk and a chair for me, but besides that it was empty of furniture.

I looked at him nervously, "Never to let my guard down, sir?"

He nodded, "Exactly! Any one can be an enemy! Your best friend might stab you between the ribs one day, if you don't watch him. Do you know why I pried one of my eyes out?"

He'd what? I licked my lips nervously, "No, sir."

His wand was drawn and he used it to gesture at the blue orb. "It was the last war with old Voldie. I was a great supporter of Dumbledore and everyone knew it. Someone managed to hex it into a tracker and Death-Eaters were after me. It was either pry it out or get an AK to the back."

Moody paced around the room and gestured to it again, "Want to know who did it?"

"Who?" I asked him, morbidly curious.

He frowned darkly, "My mistress. Did it in the middle of an orgasm; everything is white at that point." He added for my benefit.

He sighed, "Ah, Bellatrix. How I miss you." He raised his flask and drank, "Crazy bitch that you were, you could hex damn well."

I attempted to edge away in an unnoticeable way before his blue eye fixed on him.

"Now what have we learned?" He suddenly asked.

"Always watch my back, not to have orgasms in front of people, and not to shack up with a crazy woman that can hex well?" I asked, hopefully. That was all I had gathered from his tale.

He nodded, "Most people normally miss the second and last one. You're bright, Granger."

The teacher suddenly aimed a jinx, and I cast a shield, dodging in case it broke.

He grinned, "Good reflexes. Never mind it was a jelly-legs." He gestured for me to sit but I stood, wand in hand. "Good, good. Your learning already. Now, your first lesson. The little spells can kill, too." He did a transfiguration spell and the chair turned into a likeness of Lucius Malfoy.

Moody muttered, just loud enough to understand him, "I hate the Malfoy's. Bunch of arrogant shits."

I was beginning to like him.

"Now, you know how to cast an enlarging hex?" He asked me. I nodded at him. "Do it on Malfoy's head and don't stop until I say so."

I pointed my wand and said, "Engorgio." Malfoy's smirking face grew and grew until it popped.

"Stop!" He told me.

I frowned at him, "But his head already popped off."

He smiled at me, showing yellow and brown teeth, "Exactly."

So there was a method to his madness. He transfigured the chair back and sent it to my desk.

"Sit!" He barked at me. I sat automatically, ready to spring up if it proved a trap. It wasn't, but I didn't settle in it comfortably.

"Now, traditionally, duelling was a magical version of fencing. French wizards started it, and soon the English found and adapted it. We beat them with it in the first war," He said with pride. "Someone would charm the swords and before a war could break out, representatives would fight and whoever won would declare whether war was necessary or not. Eventually, it just became about killing your opponent and it lacked most of the style found previously."

He scoffed, "Style gets you killed, Granger. Get rid of the unnecessary flourishes and the flicks that take to long. By the time your done, your lying in a pool of blood. The French say it's 'barbaric.' We call it, 'practical.'"

He grabbed his chair and smashed it against the stone floor. Moody then took one leg and threw the other to me. I caught it with my left hand.

"Put your wand in your dominant hand and your sword in the other," He told me. I didn't move them; I was ambidextrous and there was no difference in the strength of my hands. "Sometimes, don't. Trip your opponents up by using the other hand."

I nodded at him, stood, and he suddenly charged. He was fast for only having one leg and I brought my 'sword' up to block him. I then aimed my wand at his bad leg and willed it to break. The sound of splintering wood sounded, and he was on his back.

He cursed violently but he was smiling, "Good, Granger. Always exploit your opponents weak spots." Moody healed his leg and then hobbled up, "That's good, too. If you can help it, say your spells wordlessly. It saves time and your opponent won't know what to do." He then added, "Practice wand-less magic and occlumency as well; even better."

I was then told to look the last two subjects up, that we would meet every weekday from four-thirty to six-thirty and if I was late, I would train by myself for an extra half hour every night, on Saturday's and Sunday's my arse was his for hand-to-hand combat or whatever he pleased, to wear comfortable clothes and trainers, and if my grades slipped he'd ride me twice as hard. This left absolutely no time for a life and my tutoring days were over, if not shot to death with a machine gun.

He lectured me on useful jinxes and hexes that could save my life and occasionally used his 'sword' to get a point across about a sliding move, or a twisting return. By the time my two hours were up I knew more about his ex-women, and how paranoia would save my life than anyone deserved to know. I also had more bruises than a few and I was starting to feel dizzy.

Moody nodded at me, "You did good today, Granger. See you at dinner after you get cleaned up." He then hobbled away.

I felt like limping, too, but instead I hurried up the stairs to the tower, washed up, put salve on my bruises, got dressed in Muggle clothes and nearly led the entire tower to dinner so he wouldn't mess with me later on. I wouldn't have touched anything but Winky showed up with a plate of fruits, veggies, and steak and refused to leave by threat of bashing her skull against the marble floor. For once I wasn't going to argue, and when I finished I left the Great Hall to head to the library. There was no doubt in my mind that Moody's blue eye was watching me.

If Madam Pince was surprised to see me after so long she didn't let on. Instead she directed me towards the occlumency and wand-less magic sections where I scanned the books hurriedly, checked them out, and headed upstairs. I found out that occlumency was the art of blocking the mind from invaders and in order to do it, one had to clear their mind of all things. There were few people that could master it, but I was about to become one.

Wand-less magic was just that; wand-less magic. It was almost impossible for a human witch, however, because you channelled magic directly from around your body instead of through the wand or other artefact. Humanoid magical creatures were made of magic, not just a funnel for it, so they didn't have a use for wands and the like. Amulets and the like, however, they seemed to love, even having them placed in certain chakra points as infants.

When I'd first found out I was a witch I'd found that witches and wizards aren't truly magical; the things we used were and you had the ability to use those things to force others to happen, but your body wasn't a true instrument for magic. Your 'core' was the ability to channel magic from other places to be used by you, not any magic you might hold inside. Only one human wizard had ever been seen doing wand-less magic after receiving their wand and that was Salazar Slytherin. He was considered human, but there was a vampire clan less than ten generations from him.

Moody wanted me to do the impossible. Well, I would make it possible.

For the next week, I struggled to do all my homework, pay attention in class, and go through Moody's training regimen without a word of complaint. Winky helped me go through the physical exercises as told by him; fifty push-ups, fifty crunches, three laps in the Black Lake no matter the temperature, and two hours of sword play against an enchanted knight.

Harry helped, anytime he could between struggling with homework, and Ron had come back as he always did, depressed without his best mates. You could always count on Ron for that; coming back when he realized what he'd done wrong.

On Saturday and Sunday we did t'ai chi chuan, more for him than for me, but he needed a partner in case his leg messed him up, and taekwondo, a Korean martial art that involved sharp kicks and punches to pressure points in the opponents body. Moody watched and occasionally corrected my stance or the like. Sometimes, however, we had tea in Hogsmeade at Madam Puddifoot's and he talked about his days as an Auror.

He would lean back in his chair, prop his bad leg up, and talk for hours about the criminals he'd apprehended and what was wrong with society today. It was rather like talking with Grandpa Jack, who lived in America and spat tobacco in an urn. Moody looked at me with his brown eye, "I bet you've never even had a class on the proper techniques to take care of your wand or where to put it when your not using it. From what I hear, it was cancelled when your parents went to this school."

I frowned at him, taking a sip of my tea, "I'm a Muggle-born, sir. My parents didn't even think that magic was real until I was accepted and Professor Flitwick came to visit."

He looked me over and shook his head, "Believe what you want, Granger, but I distinctly remember your father. You have his eyes." He grinned, "And those teeth made an appearance too, so I hear."

I fumed silently. My front teeth were larger than my others and I'd been called every name in the book. If I were to go home now, almost everyone would call me "Beaver," after a class on naming animals that started with 'b' and what traits they exhibited. All of my uncles called me Mickey after Mickey Mouse from Disney and because my father was Irish. It was affectionately said, but it still hurt to know that they were calling me a slur.

The only reason I wasn't teased was that the majority of wizard's had never heard of toothbrushes or braces. Even Malfoy, who probably would have solid golden braces if they weren't made by Muggles, had horribly crooked teeth. Their nursing bottles were covered with honey or sugar to get them to drink as babies which made them crooked, and the charms eroded the enamel and eventually ruined the core of the tooth, which led to many of them being toothless in their old age. By comparison, my teeth were the best things to ever be seen from a native Brit, if you looked at the pure-bloods and the half-bloods. The difference was, though, that the foreign witches and wizards had missed out on the inbreeding so the trait wasn't in them, or the Muggle-borns.

Moody though, was convinced that he knew my father. "And that hair!" He hooted, "Thicker than a bramble patch! I never did figure out how he could get a comb through it."

You don't, I thought. You brush it with the hardest thing you can find and even if the ball of hair's six inches thick, you can't tell it was brushed but it feels better.

Luckily, Parvati had taken to brushing my hair and the ball had receded to roughly two and a half inches. She was very gentle with it, and I sometimes fell asleep with her going through my hair until it didn't snag on anything, and then she'd continue. Lavender seemed to think she was missing something and would sometimes curl up on my lap and snuggle against my stomach. We would end up in a pile of tangled limbs and sleep like that. I wondered if that was what it was like to have siblings.

All seven of my cousins were only children, like me, or there was a large age gap, from ten to fifteen years, and none of us liked each other. The only one I could stand was Tudor and that was because he couldn't talk or walk yet. I figured once he got older I would hate them all equally. Somehow, I got the feeling that wasn't what a family was supposed to be like.

Moody looked at the blue sky, with fat lazy clouds. His face seemed to clear of whatever always troubled him.

"Sharp as a cat-o'-nine-tails though. Nothing could get past him, and from what I hear he was well on his way to being a cryptologist. Your mother was nice, too," He added. "Very sweet, very impassioned about everything she believed in. It seems you got most of their good traits."

I raised an eyebrow, "And their bad traits?" If he was going to insist that he knew my parents, I would play along. Besides, my real parents rarely talked about their school years between constant arguments, worrying about me, and who the dentistry would go to. The idea of splitting it fifty-fifty didn't seem to have occurred to them and when I mentioned it they argued more about whether the dentistry was on a less important scale than I was, since I was never home for the most part.

He said, "You can't hold a tune in a bucket, if your anything like either of them, and your sense of justice is probably horribly skewed. You can't save people that don't want to be, and you shouldn't try, Granger. You may think I'm being cold, but it'll save you some heartache. Never take people at face-value. If I'm being nice to you, what do you thinks in it for me? Why do you think I'm doing this?"

I looked at him and thought before I said, "Loneliness. Being an Auror all your adult like has made you grow old early and paranoid beyond measure. You don't have a wife, children, or a job any more. I'm the closest thing you'll ever get to having a family, aren't I, Moody?"

Moody put his tea down and stood up.

"Said you were sharp, didn't I?" He called over his shoulder as he left. I finished my tea and left the table, knowing it would be cleaned up. We left the shop at the same time but in different directions. He headed to the Hog's Head as I left town. There were to many people, there was to much noise and the beginning of a headache was forming.

It was starting to get cool, and the leaves were falling everywhere but the Forbidden Forest. The red, yellow, and brown leaves scattered across the well-worn trail, and I kicked a pile of them. They made crisp, crunching sounds as I walked over them and shoved my hands into my pockets. I'd forgotten my scarf against the brisk wind and I wanted it.

I wanted it the same way I wanted to be hugged by my Mum, to snuggle into one of the squishy couches with hot cocoa and a book on a winter night, to listen to Neville and Seamus debate the properties of monk's hood playfully, hands touching. I wanted it the way I'd wanted to sleep on clouds as a child, to lay in Grandad's fields and play with the rabbits. I wanted simplicity and happiness, the way a simple wrapping of cloth could bring back my favourite scent, to make me smile because my friend had made it.

But most of all, I wanted it as I wanted to go back to France where it seemed my life had gone from average to extraordinary and then to mediocre with the appearance and disappearance of the girl in the market.

Just as I thought it, another set of footsteps hurried behind me. I turned around, half-way in a defensive position, when I relaxed. Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker, was behind me, a blue and bronze scarf tucking away most of her features. I waited for her to catch up and she smiled at me. At least I assumed it was a smile, since the corners of her eyes crinkled and I flashed her a slight grin. She was abnormally pretty, even to me, and it was hard to maintain a calm persona around her. I could ignore Lavender, Sally-Anne Perkins, and Daphne Greengrass, the prettiest girls in our year, I could ignore Ginny, who was almost as developed as I was, I could ignore Katie, and Alicia, who were everyone's straight girl crushes.

What I couldn't ignore were the exotic and rarities.

And Cho Chang was a rarity and an exotic beauty here at Hogwarts. There were two Asian students, Cho and Fredrick Ng in Ravenclaw, and Cho was definitely prettier than Fredrick.

"Hey," I said to her as we started to walk. She said something back but it was horribly muffled against the thick scarf. I tugged it from her mouth, my fingers brushing the edges of her cheeks and mouth, making them burn. She gave me a lopsided smile and said, "Thanks, I can speak again. Your going back already?"

I nodded, "Yeah, it's kind of crowded there. Probably can't even get a decent butterbeer with the crowd in The Three Broomsticks."

Cho nodded sympathetically, "I tried. They ran out; they act like it's freezing the way they grabbed as many as they could."

I raised an eyebrow at her own getup. She had on gloves, a hat, a scarf, a jacket, and thick boots, and she was talking about them? She flushed gently and pushed me, "Don't look at me like that; it was cold when I left this morning. I bet you didn't even wander out of the castle before noon."

I shrugged, looking away so she wouldn't see my pink cheeks, "Moody sure wasn't getting up any time soon. I had to ask a Prefect to find him."

She laughed at me, "Laziness. You've been infected by Harry and Ron."

I stuck my tongue out at her and she grinned cheekily before swinging an arm over my shoulders. Her mouth was dreadfully close to my ear and her words and breaths puffed against the shell of my sensitive ear, making goosebumps rise on my forearms. "You excited about the Triwizard Tournament?"

I scoffed, momentarily forgetting how close she was, "Everyone in that is going to get hurt and at least one person is going to die."

Cho raised an eyebrow, "You sound pretty sure about that." I could see the freckles on the bridge of her nose; they were so close that I could count them. The rest of me chose that moment to figure out how close we were and something painfully hot and tugging slid behind my stomach. I cleared my throat and said, my throat slightly itchy, "It's a statistic. In the last Tournament everyone died because a troll was the last obstacle."

She whistled lowly. Her mouth was very pink and slightly chapped, probably from the cold, but pleasantly full, even when pursed so I could see the slight lines in them, and I watched her tongue come out and lick her lips. It seemed to happen in slow motion. The way her tongue slipped out to the corner, raised to touch her upper-lip, and pulled across before it reached the other end and then a down stroke to feel her bottom lip.

They then moved to form words, but I was stuck by how bloody perfect her teeth were. Perfectly sized, white, and even. I have a thing for teeth, so sue me. You would too if your earliest memory is sitting next to your parents looking at x-ray's of mouths and which one was better than the other. Blood pounded in my ears as I looked past her mouth to her cheeks, the skin perfectly smooth except for a slight scar on her left cheek, probably from Quidditch.

Her neck was smooth and I could see the slight lines on it from where it joined her torso and evened out to her shoulders, which I could tell were slim with her being a Seeker. I knew enough about the sport to understand that her being in her position meant that she had to be small and slender. Within the next year, I'd probably be taller than her, even with her being a year older.

I shook my head, in real life and in my mind, and said, "Sorry, what'd you say?"

She rolled her eyes at me, "I was saying, didn't you, Harry, and Ron survive a full-grown troll in your first year?"

I looked at her, away, and back before I replied seriously, "We survived. We didn't have to kill it, we had it outnumbered and confused." I stepped from under her arm and stared at her hard. She was confused, I think, by my vehement reactions, and she looked as if she was seeing me for the very first time. Or rather, like a scientist looking at a new type of animal.

I didn't let that stop my tirade, "We were fucking lucky, Cho. There is no other word for it, besides the fact that we have loads of good luck stored somewhere in our equally messy heads. Now just because you survive doesn't make you a hero, so I don't want to hear anything else about that shitty tournament. People don't win or lose in it; people survive and lose or die and lose."

"How do you lose either way?" She asked, curiously. Damned Ravenclaws; never interested in what they needed to be.

I continued walking, and she hurried after me. I no longer found her attractive; something in me had decided after that display of single-minded ineptitude, that she was no longer physically attractive either. "Do you think that you win when you survive and others die through what you feel are your own actions that let you live?"

I hurried up the castle steps, away from her and the coolness of the outside world. Maybe Moody was onto something with his 'don't trust anyone as far as you can throw them without magic' philosophy.


	3. Biko

Title : Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N:

Bouillabaisse is a highly seasoned Mediterranean soup or stew made of several kinds of fish and shellfish with tomatoes and onions or leeks and seasoned with saffron and garlic and herbs.

Matelote is a highly seasoned soup or stew made of freshwater fish (eel, carp, and perch) with wine and stock.

For those of you who don't know, a 'man-crush' is what we call it when a guy feels a sense of admiration for another guy and knows things about him that can be likened to an obsessive girl with a crush. Typically, they are tall, well-built, and handsome or remarkably good at what they do, which makes it easier to say that's what they wish to be like.

The song mentioned is 'Under Pressure' by Queen.

* * *

Chapter 3: Biko

'Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry about how I talked to you yesterday. I hope that you can forgive me, I realise that you are right now. Can you come to Honeyduke's next Saturday so we can talk?

-Cho'

I glanced up. She smiled at me and wiggled her fingers discreetly. I ripped a piece of the parchment off and wrote back, quickly,

'Cho,

No. Stick to Diggory.

-H'

Since then, she'd been out for blood. Personally, I think it could have been a lot worse than it was. She could have gotten up and slapped me. She could have cried. As it was, she started vicious rumours and convinced the Ravenclaws that I'd disproved a theory and wouldn't tell her about it. That was a sure way to get on a Ravenclaws black list.

The weeks came and went with a startling speed. Snow was sure to fall soon, and even I was beginning to dread getting out of bed to go to school. It was becoming a fast fact that this was the coldest winter since 1851, when Binns had died in front of the fire, and apparently, he didn't feel as if he was going to last long into this, either, because the next day he was gone.

For the first time in over a century, Hogwarts didn't have a history of magic teacher. It was something most of us were quickly becoming accustomed to. Binns was a joke anyway, but now we didn't have to murmur it. It took almost two weeks to find a suitable teacher, and all around Europe it was a fast spreading rumour that Hogwarts was haunted, and not with just the position of DADA.

Like the beginning of the year, the teacher came during dinner. It was Thursday, the day before Halloween, and most of the students had on all sorts of clothes that didn't quite match or fit. The point, I was told haughtily, was to be warm, not comfortable. I was quite cosy at this temperature and Madam Pomfrey found it an impossibility that I was the only one that didn't need on more than the regular amount of clothes.

My heightened body temperature made me the main source of heat and one of my friends was always huddled by me. Even Ron had managed to keep his trap closed long enough to hug me for several minutes to warm up, and Ginny couldn't be pried away from me for more than class and the bathroom, if Lavender or Parvati hadn't taken the spot.

The doors opened slightly, rather than the bursting in that Moody was famous for, and a familiar slender man came in, closing them quietly. I even pulled an ear-bud out to catch the snatches of conversation that had come with the entry.

The whispers started almost before he could come in fully.

"Professor Lupin," the Hall seemed to whispered, "It's Lupin again!"

Lupin was our best and favourite teacher. He managed to teach without having a clear bias, his lesson plans were usually very well-written, and he was a cheerful, if sickly, man. He was also a werewolf. That was a well-kept secret, although that didn't hinder him as a teacher. Only Harry, Ron, and I knew out of the several hundred students. He looked even more gaunt than usual, and his clothes even shabbier than before.

There were no jobs for werewolves, no matter how brilliant or how many recommendations they had or how well they did their jobs. I'd read that it would be harder on those that grew up in modern society, because they knew what they were capable of doing when compared to others, but there was no way that they'd be allowed to do the things that regular witches and wizards were allowed to.

Snape's face, as unpleasant as it was, seemed to become even more pinched with his anger, and he left abruptly. Dumbledore had obviously gone behind his back with this, and the old man sagged slightly, but he did hug Lupin when he was within reach. He then sat in the ever vacant seat of History of Magic and tucked into his meal.

The rest of dinner passed by with enough serenity that the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I twirled my wand lazily in my right hand, never letting it fall or dip lowly. There was something wrong when not even a Cho-Fan tried to hex me. I glanced up at the table again, and watched Moody's magical eye swirl about, trying to find a pattern in it. Eventually, I figured there wasn't one. Moody wasn't the predictable type.

The next day was filled with excited talk and chatter about the other schools coming tonight. There was little known about them so the rumours moved in with a real fury. There was hardly any work done and I could practically see the twins brains moving. They were always trying to show off their joke sweets and this was the push they needed to really gain some favourable publicity besides 'those damn Weasley boys'.

The night was colder than before and we crowded together, a giant black mass, waiting for our guests. You wouldn't dare catch someone trying to hex the other because it was too damned cold to do much more than glare. Or, as Ron explained, rubbing his hands together and stomping, "Takes to much heat to hex someone."

"If they're late, I'm going to bed, docked points or not," Harry mumbled at my side, his face on my shoulder. I wasn't that tall, but Harry was shorter than me and his nose was level with my collarbone. I gave a brief chuckle before I saw it.

"Look, a boat," I told him, only to be overheard. "It's a boat," Someone else whispered. "It's Durmstang! The Durmstrang boys are here!" Someone yelled, and then, everyone was trying to get to the shore of the lake. McGonagall's wand sent up red sparks and they settled down again, but the whispers continued.

When it came into sight, it was a large boat, with oars sticking out of both sides. A type of crested sail stuck out of it and it reminded me of the large boats that they'd used in China before Marco Polo 'discovered' them. The oars moved in perfect unison and I could hear the steady beat of a large drum that they used to keep time. A man was on top of it, and I could tell his eyes were cold and impersonal. They paused at the shore of the lake and he went down the hatchway.

At about the time the whispers turned to silence, there was another shout, "Look at the sky!"

It was a moonless night, but the stars were bright enough for the powder-blue, elegant, carriage to be more than evident. I could see the Muggle-born Firsties bouncing up and down, whispering to each other loudly, "Look at the horses! They can fly! Look, they've got wings!"

I smiled a little, wondering if that's what I was like when I was still naïve and innocent, when the giant steeds reached the ground. They reminded me of the unicorns in the forest, white and imposing with golden hooves and faked disinterest under any attention, except for the large, angelic wings and the missing impaling implement.

"Those are Abraxan horses," I told Harry. "They originated in Greece but they're bred in Macedonia, France, and Italy."

He watched them like a child at Christmas, his eyes alight with glee. The simple things made him so much happier, like someone telling him about something or helping him when he didn't know, and I cursed those people every day of my life for doing that to my best friend. Mum had loved him since meeting him in our first year and would have adopted him if given half a chance and the Dursley's weren't his only source of 'protection.'

A door appeared, almost indistinguishable from the rest of it, until a large woman stood in the doorway. She was nearly as tall and wide as Hagrid, so she was likely partially giant. For all her girth, she moved gracefully, and handed the reins to Hagrid. So this was Madame Olympe Maxime; I'd expected someone paler.

The massive woman said something that couldn't be heard from our position, but whatever it was made him swell. It was about the horses, then, unless he'd scored a date. Our grounds-keeper was always curious and eager to learn about new creatures, so there would probably be a class on them.

McGonagall gestured for us to enter the castle, with several well-aimed showers of sparks that startled most of us into movement. The Hall had warming charms on them, probably for our guests, and several of the younger students yawned. I was tired, too, but the 'Gryffindor escapades' kept me awake more than long enough for us to sit.

The Durmstrang boys came in first, wearing tight black pants and fur coats. They rather reminded me of the boys I'd seen that struck poses to model for my art classes over the summer. I recognised one boy, with a vulture-like face and who walked like a blind duck, as Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. Krum rather reminded me of the school librarian with the beginnings of a beard and a smoother face. The man with the cold eyes walked from behind them, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. That was their headmaster, Igor Kakaroff.

Apparently, most of the school also recognised Krum. It was sometimes a reminder that as wonderful and quaint as the magical world could be, they were still prone to fits of hero-worship, loads of gossip, and Quidditch was to them like footy was to Muggle-borns and Muggles like me.

The Durmstang boys split into two groups. Half followed their headmaster, who sat near the Slytherins, and the other half followed Krum to our table. Krum sat next to Harry, who nearly passed out. His man-crush on Krum was second only to Ron's, who owned his entire collection of cards and action figures and could recite Krum's statistics in his sleep. He'd done so in History of Magic once, so it wasn't hyperbole like most of his other 'quirks' were.

If you asked me to, I could recite the whole English football team names from the forties until now but Quidditch was almost another language. Actually, it was like asking me to speak to aliens because I spoke Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, and Russian with enough fluidity that I could be mistaken for a native at any one of those places.

The overly-large woman came afterwards, and kissed Dumbledore's cheek. Her voice was thickly accented but was naturally loud and she said, "It is a pleasure to see you again, dear Albus, Igor. Your company is, as always, a charming affair, and I'm sure my little fairies will feel so as well." She clapped her huge hands and they came in.

The students were dressed in blue and walked like ballet dancers. The innate poise that most teenagers missed completely when the gods gave out gifts, seemed to have gone to them in triplicate. Even the little ones that seemed to stop at every new thing didn't trip over each other or bump into anything, like ours did. The most elegant of all, however, was a girl about seventeen with long platinum hair, paler than Malfoy's and of a far finer quality, and a pale complexion. She was beautiful, if not perfect from here.

She was the girl from the market and the world started to gain colour before it drained again. It was just a simple infatuation, nothing more. She wouldn't recognise me, the girl at the café drinking iced coffee in seventy degree weather, and a thick book in front of her.

More than that, compared to the other students from her school, she was most likely a Veela which meant my love interest was nothing but a response to the natural pheromones a Veela gives off during the age from puberty to about the wedding night, with the taking of their vaginal virginity in a holy union.

If I found her attractive, the guys found her to be their collective dream girl. Harry looked as if he might get up from the table and kneel at her feet. Gred and Forge pulled Ron down and Lee was shaking with the effort to not move. Neville and Seamus both looked conflicted and Dean had put his head under the table. You could hear his deep, timed breathing and his chant of "She's only a girl. There's no need to feel like this. She's only a girl."

If he only knew.

Luckily, she sat at the Ravenclaw table so we didn't have to deal with her up-close. That would have been a disaster waiting to happen. Most Ravenclaws were a cross between eunuchs, asexual old women, and monks, on a good day. They could ignore all sexual pursuits if there was a scrap of intellectual conversation somewhere in the Hall, and they could talk about rumours before the words could get out good, but were notoriously prudish.

Then the feast began. There were, of course, the traditional foods like bangers and mash, and baked chicken and the like, but then there was bouillabaisse and matelote, both stews I'd had in France, and other dishes, most of which I didn't recognise.

After dinner and the desserts, which I tried nearly all of, Dumbledore stood up again.

"Now that we are all fed and watered may I be the first to welcome our guests! We, at Hogwarts, wish for you to have a wonderful stay here and to think of us as your cousins. Granted, we might be the cousins you don't like to talk about unless you need an embarrassing story, but family nevertheless."

They remained stone-faced. Even the little kids looked as if they were made of granite.

His smile never wavered. You had to admire his steadfast approach. He continued, "Now, off to bed. Breakfast is from seven thirty to eight forty-five. May your dreams be bright!"

They left without a word, although the beautiful girl glanced at our table and most of the guys, Angelina, and I blushed. Seeing Angelina blush was damned funny, considering how dark she was between genetics and Quidditch. George seemed to think so as well, because he teased her about it.

"Oy, Angie, don't tell me you've fallen under her thrall as well?" He asked, going up the stairs. We waited at a landing as they shifted out of place. I grabbed a second year to keep her from falling off and she blushed as she said, "Thank you."

Fred continued where George had left off, "If I'd known a pair of breasts and long hair is what you wanted, I'd have asked Bill for a donation and for Mum to send some sweets."

She rolled her eyes, "No, Gred, I'm not under her 'thrall.' Besides, I like her eyes, not her body."

A collective snort, from the youngest first year to the oldest seventh year, was heard around the castle and she glared at us, although she was blushing again, "Shut up, the lot of you."

The night was freezing but the cosy dreams I'd have normally had were lost. I dreamed of crisp snow, pink with blood and long dark hair fanned out behind the body of a man, whose skin was tinged blue. I stayed awake most of the night, drawing the body I'd seen. Saturday dawned crisp, cold, and with a layer of snow. November promised to be a freezing month. The roof of the Ravenclaw tower had a thin layer of ice on it and I melted a spot on it from the door to about a fifteen by fifteen square in order for Moody to do his t'ai chi chuan.

Almost an hour later, he showed up, and grinned at me, "Glad to see you've helped out one of your veterans, Granger. Just don't make a habit of it or you'll never be able to stop. The Wizarding World is full of veterans from the good side and the bad."

The slow moving exercise left me with plenty of energy so he conjured a dummy and watched me fight it. He called, "You've got better flexibility, Granger. Monday we move you to gymnastics with your duelling, understand?" There was hardly time to respond because the dummy was attempting to throw me over the edge. I did a jujitsu-style move, where one leg went behind the attackers, one arm wrapped around their waist, and your other acted as a brace before you pulled all your weight back on that arm. The dummy tumbled to the ground.

After that, we headed to Hogsmeade and entered the Hog's Head. It was another Hogsmeade weekend, but it was so crowded this was the only decently quiet place. Moody flopped into a chair and I sat next to him. A thin man in an overly large coat, missing both of his front teeth, who reeked of alcohol and stale cigarettes, and ginger hair sat on his other side. His face rather reminded me of bloodhound only his jowls sagged less.

"Moody! I ain't 'een you in 'o long!" He shouted, trying to wrap an arm around Moody. Moody cast a spell so fast that I couldn't hear what it was but I did see the man upside down, his clothes inside out, and heard Moody's surprised, "Dung! What're you doing here? Aren't you banned from Hogsmeade?"

The man, Dung, grinned impishly once taken down, "Ol' Gill 'ere need' me, eh?"

The man behind the bar grunted and kept wiping his dirty rag on the equally dirty glass. He didn't seem to mind much that I was there, although he kept an eye on me when Moody ordered a case of butterbeer and a bottle of Firewhiskey. Somehow, the idea that he would report Moody never entered the darkest corner of my mind.

Dung, I was told, was really Mundungus Fletcher, an excellent informant on stolen property if he talked to the right guy, and right now, Moody was the right guy. A hot meal, some Firewhiskey, the chance for someone to hear some stories, and he was hooked. With his missing front teeth, he couldn't make the 's' or the 'th' sounds so it took a little time to decipher what he was saying.

As paranoid as Moody was, nothing could survive Firewhiskey besides the truth serum, and he wouldn't turn down something he'd bought. I drank a butterbeer just to keep him from eyeing me suspiciously. Within an hour, Dung was telling me about his escapades involving people that had even more unsavoury names than his and laughing all the while. Eventually, Dung came to his Hogwarts years, and started on the pranks and jokes he and his friends had driven the teachers batty on.

I wondered who all ended up like Dung, selling and buying stolen goods, that had once had bright futures and loads of friends. But war changed people, and I doubted there was much use for jokers and pranksters when a country had to be rebuilt. Or rather if there was much appreciation for jokes about the latest whore while burying the dead.

He and Moody wiped tears from their eyes and the ginger-haired man turned to me, "But nuthin' top' when Janice Cartel got the Quidditch pitch ta 'tart 'ingin' the Hogwarts 'ong wit' a compul'n charm." He shook his head and suddenly slumped over, snoring. I glanced at the professor to be sure he wouldn't pass out too. His blueish wand was pointed at Dung and he put it away, mumbling.

Moody had paled somewhat. He shook his head, and grabbed the Firewhiskey before we left. I grabbed the case of butterbeer before he dragged me out. I had a feeling that I would need it. The village receded quickly from view as we hurried through the snow. It was already mucked up and dirty from the constant, trampling feet that made up Hogwarts and it's guests. My trainers were soaked and I resolved to go and buy some boots before they were ruined completely.

He turned to me as we neared the castle, "Don't enter Hogsmeade for the rest of the weekend and don't mention Dung to anybody." He then hobbled off and I headed to my dorm. The butterbeer went under my bed and I pulled the curtains to make Parvati and Lavender think that I was sleeping.

The library was closed, though, so I couldn't go in. Madam Pince, for the first time in Hogwarts history, was gone as well, having slipped on a dung bomb by the dungeons that Peeves was tossing and broke her hip. Her landing had startled a class, and a first year had spilled something in a cauldron that had caused her lungs to shrivel up because she couldn't get out fast enough. It'd be nearly a month, perhaps longer, before she could come back to work.

The gymnastics Moody had me in had made me limber and the beginnings of muscle development were startling to all that had known me since first year. I had abs and when we went to take our showers, the other girls giggled at me. Katie had even said, "The way you're working out, grow a penis and see if I don't rape you come June, Granger." Maybe flying wouldn't be so hard now that I'd faced my other fears.

The Great Hall buzzed with whispers and cheers on November 14th. The day three teenagers potentially lost their lives, and all they could do was think of their nationalistic pride and sense of 'glory.'

My classmates were really into it and were supporting Angelina, who had just turned seventeen and had put her name in the Goblet. Harry, who we jokingly referred to as 'Lady Luck' because he always managed to win whatever we were betting on when actually thinking, even gave her a kiss for good luck. Even as a good friend, I didn't find it much fun.

Cho, however, seemed to be more into it than ever before. I could tell it was to spite me because she would look at me and sneer every time someone said something positive about it. The little twit had even encouraged them and had made bloody buttons for it and convinced Diggory that I was up to something involving her.

I no longer walked by the Hufflepuffs on any occasion, because they followed after Diggory, who didn't have two braincells to rub together. Her friend Marietta, or whatever her name was, often tried to prove me wrong in class. Any respect I'd had for her as an intellectual, had vanished. She was enamoured with Chang, but I doubted that it would go anywhere.

As Ginny put it, "You've got your own, personal Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle."

Dumbledore stood up and his twinkling eyes seemed almost to be on fire, "Today is the day we've been waiting for, students. Today our champions are picked."

They screamed and yelled so much that I rolled my eyes and put my iPod in my ears. Harry pleaded for me to give him one but I shook my head and stuck my tongue out at my best friend before I turned on Queen. Nothing could get past the sound of Freddie Mercury's yowling. Granted, it was some of the best yowling anyone could ever have the pleasure of hearing, but it is what it is.

The Goblet, a gaudy thing inlaid with jewels and the like, threw out a line of fire that Dumbledore picked up and said something. Krum stood from our table and I clapped. He was a decent fellow, if a bit slow but that was probably from multiple hits to the head as a Quidditch player, and if he won, all the better for him. He entered a door off the side of the Hall.

The cup spat out another line and the beautiful blonde girl stood up, curtsied, and went in the same room as Krum. I liked the way her hips swayed as she walked up the steps that led to the room. If she'd been wearing tight pants, like the Durmstrang boys, all the better. I also cursed myself for not taking my ear-buds out because then I would have learned her name. We waited several seconds before the Hufflepuff table started clapping, and Diggory stood up, grinned at us, and went in the same room.

Dumbledore smiled widely and threw his hands out in a gesture of helplessness but then his smile froze and his eyes were drawn to the Goblet. His hands dropped as it glowed again, obviously doing something unusual. I could practically see the rest of them turn to look at it as well but instead I played with my knife and fork, trying to tap out the beat the song was playing.

Another line of fire streaked into his hand and his eyes widened as his eyes scanned the name. The buzz of the hall sped up and then stopped and he turned to look at me. The headmaster's face became ashen and I watched his mouth move soundlessly, my music blaring.

"Insanity laughs under pressure, we're cracking

Can't we give ourselves one more chance?

Why can't we give love that one more chance?" Freddie sang, before Harry ripped the ear-buds from my ear.

"What?" I asked, snatching them back. "What's wrong?"

He gestured to the teacher's table and I finally heard Professor Dumbledore's call, "Hermione Granger!" I paled the same time Harry did and we gave each other wide-eyed looks. Colin's opportunistic photo was comical in retrospect as everyone else was staring at us staring at each other.

I wanted to put my head down but the only thought going through my head was, 'Will she notice if I get killed?'


	4. Spinning

Title: Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N:

I've changed the chapters from every Saturday to whenever I finish. I tend to be going faster rather than slower, so I hope you guys don't mind the flood of e-mails.

Let's play a game:

Spot the British curse! Whoever can catch all the curses I've written that are normally used in Britain, and put the sentence where they are, gets a free one-shot! I get to choose; but it's dedicated to you.

* * *

Chapter 4: Spinning

Harry and I stared at each other before Ron pushed me. "Go up," He whispered and I stood up shakily. Why would my name come out the Goblet? Sure, I'd joked to the seventh years that I'd do better than they would if given half a chance, but everyone knew how I felt about it. Most of the foreign students avoided me because I wasn't afraid to say that I thought it was stupid.

I entered the room and saw that it, like most rooms in Hogwarts, was larger than it had seemed from the outside. Rectangular shaped, it housed several bookshelves, another door, and a variety of weapons. Most of them I recognised from Moody's classes on weapon identification but I wasn't allowed to handle them, something he complained about incessantly. Apparently, my parents drew the line at letting me have real weapons, but I could do anything I wanted to with a rusty sword from one of the suits of armour.

Viktor looked up and nodded at me. Sharing my best friend with him meant that I had to talk to him and, despite often not knowing the proper English word, he was an okay guy. Diggory, though, insisted on nearly growling at me. I didn't glare back. Just because Chang was interested in me didn't mean anything about my interest in her. She was just angry about how I'd brushed off her 'sound logic.'

The blonde girl stood by the fireplace and turned around partially to look at me. Her soft, slightly accented voice sent shivers down my spine and I felt my face warm in an unhealthy fashion, as she asked, "Is there a problem outside, or do they need us for anything?"

I shook my head, and answered, "No. They, uh, sent me in here bec-"

I was cut off as the staff from all three schools burst into the room. Snape nearly tackled me, but when I stepped out of his line of movement, he grabbed me by my shirt, slammed me into a wall and snarled, "How did you do it, Granger? How'd you get the Goblet to pick you? I'm sure Potter and Weasley put their names in too, but how did you get it to pick you?"

I pushed him off and glared, "Do you honestly believe that I'd be stupid enough to put my name into that stupid thing after how vocal I was about being against it? You're the Slytherin; act like it." I sneered, "Or did those potion fumes damage your brain as well as your face?"

He growled at me. I could practically feel my hackles rise and one of the ornate plates shattered as Hagrid put one hand on both of us. He separated us like one would a couple of cats, and my ire rose, several of the tables collapsed on themselves, and he said, "Calm down you two. Tempers are hot and all, but there's no need to act like that."

"Quite well said Hagrid," Dumbledore smiled. He turned to me, "Now, do you object to the veritaserum?"

Snape sniffed, "Of course she doesn't. After all, aren't all Gryffindors supposed to be horrible liars anyway? All the integrity must rot their brains."

I shook my head, my jaw clenched, and he summoned a vial of it for me. I drank it, nearly gagging, and he asked, "Miss Granger, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

I leaned against a wall, "No, headmaster."

He nodded to Kakaroff and the large woman, as if to say, 'what did I tell you?' before he asked me another question, "Did you ask anyone to put your name in the Goblet?"

I didn't even hesitate, "I joked to Lee Jordan and Angelina Jones that if they did I'd do better than anyone else but that was about it."

He paused, as if not ever having considered it, "And what did they say?"

I blushed slightly and looked down, "Angelina laughed, and Lee said that he would if I could grow a bushel of dragon dick in my cauldron, get it to crawl up his arse and tickle his g-spot."

As Maxime purpled, Kakaroff stared at me stupidly, and Dumbledore fought to contain his giggle, Professor Sprout hurried in, "That's the children's pet-name for a new breed of Venus fly-trap I'm trying to get registered by the agricultural committee. It happens to be scaly, green, and, unfortunately, phallus-shaped so it fits."

The woman in blue glared, "See that they change it."

Kakaroff cleared his throat, "Well, that settles that. I suppose the children should be sent off to bed now. I'll do it." He hurried out the room and Viktor waved to me and called, "Tell my Little Pea goodnight for me, yes?" The guy had to work on his pet-names. Harry was 'Little Pea,' for his eyes, I was 'Ninny,' a shortening of his mispronunciation, and Ron was 'Red.' No one needed much of an imagination to understand that one.

I nodded, "Yeah, see you tomorrow, Vick."

Madam Maxime left as well, the tall blonde following her without a glance in my direction. A pang of something sparked but it died quickly. Snape shrugged out from Hagrid's hand and stormed away, as did most of the other teachers. McGonagall, Lupin, and Moody all looked from me to Dumbledore.

Finally, Lupin cleared his throat, "Headmaster, she isn't going to compete is she?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles and said, "Remus, she'll have to. If she doesn't compete, the Goblet will suck her magical core out of her until she dies. It will be slow and unpleasant, and somehow, I don't think dying in the prime of her life would be acceptable."

"Who's telling my parents?" I asked them. "They're supposed to pick me up in December for the custody hearing."

McGonagall turned to me, "As your head of house, any domestic disputes always come to me first. I will be present during the hearing and will bring you back directly."

I nodded and Moody warned me, "Don't think this champion thing will mean you won't have training but our weekend meetings are cancelled."

I nearly sighed in relief, "Yes, Professor."

Dung was still hanging about and I didn't want to talk to him again. He'd shaken my beliefs by adding a name to the faceless people that Moody had inspired. My parents were good people, if a little condescending and an inability to relate to me. There was no need to think that they'd have lied to me about something as important as my lineage. They'd always been on me about knowing where I'd come from and having pride in that, so if I was adopted I didn't doubt that I'd have learned something about them.

The deputy headmistress turned to me, "Do you want to be in the Tournament? We can always look for another avenue to see if there's a way you can live and not participate." She didn't look very hopeful.

I shook my head, "I doubt there's another way; if there was, Professor Dumbledore would have said so."

The woman seemed to deflate and Moody clapped me on my shoulder, "If you die, remember that I found you less idiotic than your peers."

That was the closest that I would get to hearing a 'your a good student, I'm proud of you' from Moody. I took it for what it was and nodded at him.

Lupin glanced at his digital watch, "If you hurry, you can catch up with the others." I didn't need any other dismissal.

The halls were still full of students as I ducked my head and hoped to remain inconspicuous. Several of the Hufflepuffs pointed me out and that dream was crashed. Instead, I aspired to get to my dorm room as fast as possible. My section of stairs chose that moment to drift upwards to the fifth floor, but opposite the other staircases. I resisted the urge to pout. Harry waved at me from his position on the sixth floor and gestured to say that he would meet me on the stairs.

I hurried down the corridor, avoiding the other students as best I could. Talking to one of them now was the last thing I wanted to do. Harry was standing on the steps and as soon as I got on, they yanked themselves upwards. We were the only two on it so I took the time to tell him, "Viktor said to tell you goodnight."

He grunted slightly, his earlier good mood vanishing. I sat on one of the steps and he flopped next to me. He leaned his head against the railings and we watched the rest of the school move slowly. This particular stair liked to go slowly and we could be up here for fifteen minutes at the least.

I glanced at his face, saw his clenched jaw, and asked, "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, his fly away hair going everywhere before he sighed, "Nothing." It was silent again, and I waited for him. He could try all he wanted to, but his emotions always got the best of him. He was to much of a guy to hold it in and let it fester like I did.

Harry eventually raked his hands through his hair and burst out, "It's just, I think he's reading to much into it. He thinks we're going out or something and every time I try to explain to him that I don't like him that way, that I just admire his as a Seeker, and that I think of him as a good friend and that's all, he just nods and asks if I'm coming to his effing villa over the winter break and he's a good guy, but he's bloody stupid."

He slumped against my shoulder and I looked at the other students. They were tiny, like ants, and they either scurried or loitered. It was divided into two groups: The Hufflepuffs and Ravnclaws the former, the Gryffindors and Slytherins the latter. The robes had recently come to include piping around the edges to identify students easier and there had been some complaining about the extra two sickles that were needed to support the coloured thread, it helped if you were looking for one group.

He sighed again, his breath ruffling my hair and I said to him, still looking down, "Then explain it to him like an idiot. Tell him, to his face, that you don't feel the same way he does, or think that he does. Maybe they do things differently in Bulgaria." I shrugged at him, and we stood as the stairs finally stopped less than ten feet from the portrait of The Fat Lady.

"Hublingus," I said, and the portrait swung open, revealing the hole. Harry went first and then I, pulling my skirt lower. The common room was full and when they saw me, they whistled, stomped, and clapped loudly.

Angelina called, "Make sure you win for us, Granger! I didn't lose to a little fourteen-year-old for nothing!"

I stuck my tongue out, "Fifteen-year-old, thank you very much."

Fred took one side of me, George took the other, and they lifted me up onto their shoulders to parade about the common room. They started singing, loudly, "We are the champions!" Most of the others joined in. Dean had a very nice soprano. It was comforting to know that Queen was appreciated by everyone, everywhere. Fred and George dropped me on the couch, where Alicia and another seventh year, named Felicia Higgins, were, and they both kissed my cheeks, drawing more jeers as most of them sang louder. We were on the twelfth rendition of 'We Are The Champions' and just as the last verse slipped out,

"We are the champions - my friends

And we'll keep on fighting - till the end

We are the champions

We are the champions

No time for losers

Cause we are the champions - of the world!"

McGonagall and Dumbledore entered from a previously unknown door.

Our head of house was flushed, in her night-gown, and her previously held-up hair was loose but that didn't seem to stop her from yelling at us, "Gryffindors! How many times must I tell you that singing like that is not to be permitted! We are not at a drunken revel! Now get to sleep!"

The headmaster chuckled, "Minerva, calm down. They're just happy to have a champion; besides, it's a Saturday. Let them have some fun."

She gave him a dirty look and, huffing, headed right back to her quarters. The headmaster clapped his hands and, humming the tune, said, "Just be sure to be in bed before sunrise, children."

He might as well have given them a free for all pass, because they didn't seem to realize there was a limit. The twins seemed to have a limitless supply of sweets and butterbeer but I begged off relatively early on, just after midnight, and hurried to my room.

Lavender was asleep, party favours in her hair and Parvati's shirt was on backwards as she stumbled to bed. Butterbeer did have beer in it, but it was slightly less than half of the bottle. Parvati must have been a real lightweight to actually stumble about from two of them. I'd taken a case from the twins and had stashed it under my bed with the five left from Saturday. If nothing else, it was insurance for them. The last thing they'd want would be for McGonagall to know they'd gotten a bunch of kids drunk.

Sunday dawned sunny, bright, and cold as the lowest level of Hell. The combination of sun and howling wind meant most of my house-mates hissed at the idea of going outside. I'd pulled on my jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket over that before going outside. I'd promised Moody not to go into Hogsmeade but there was another village on the other side of Hogwarts that was partially Muggle and partially magical. Most people didn't go into it because it required a brief walk into the Forbidden Forest and you had to go an extra half-mile to reach it. It did, however, have more shops, had a wider variety to choose from, and was called Janesville.

It wasn't as rambling as Hogsmeade, which gave the impression of a Christmas card village with a few too many add-ons, but it was more modern. Here, Muggles, wizards, and witches lived in harmony. There were prices for dragon liver and chicken wings on the same board. There were clothes shops and magical clothes shops next door. I had some money from over the summer, when my parents had let me wander Diagon Alley by myself with the magical equivalent of six hundred pounds in my pocket.

I went into one of the stores and bought myself a never ending bag, which meant it never got full and had lightening charms on it so it never weighed more than it did empty. The bag came in handy. I bought myself regular, Muggle clothes. The robes, buttoned shirts, and wool skirts were good and all, but I liked jeans, graphic-tees, and trainers. I did, however, remember to stock up on ink, quills, parchment and to buy some boots. I bought Potions ingredients that I might need if we ever needed to make an unusual one like in second year. It was very unlikely but I liked to be prepared. This Tournament thing could very well require me to brew a potion to go into outer-space mentally.

I was about to enter a bookshop when I realized that Harry didn't have any winter clothes. He had the large sweaters Mrs Weasley sent all of us and the winter cloak that were required, but nothing else. I figured 'what the hell' and bought him a bunch of clothes, summer and winter, about his size. Anything was better than those clothes they gave him. I had them gift-wrapped and paid the extra to get them delivered anonymously on Christmas night.

The heavy sound of footsteps alerted me and I turned around, only to relax. Hagrid was standing there and he slapped me on my shoulder, nearly making me tumble, before murmuring,"First task's dragons."

I stared at him stupidly, "Dragons? Are they mental?" Oh blooming fuck, I was dead.

He shrugged, "Don't know about all that, but they're bringing them in now. First tasks next Saturday's all I know. I'm supposed to tell you and Cedric, since the other schools planned it and already prepared their champions."

I thanked him for the tip and headed back to the shop, only to find that they didn't sell books on magical things. Where was I supposed to learn about dragons? The library was closed, and Moody would ask too many questions. The only other person who could help was Professor Lupin but people would get suspicious if I kept hanging out with him, seeing I didn't need any tutoring. I would owl Charlie, Ron's brother, but he would get suspicious, since I'd never even talked to him.

I headed to Hogsmeade, only to remember they didn't have a bookshop.

Once I was at the castle, I headed straight to bed. I didn't want to think about people, dragons, or anything but the back of my eyelids.

I dreamed of a bathtub caked with blood, a pale arm hanging off the side.

_The bathroom still smelled like her favourite bath-soap, like roses and burnt brown sugar. Her arm dangled over the side, as it always was when she was bathing. Only the flush wasn't there, it was just pale. Paler than usual, even. I walked over, wondering if she was asleep. She was slumped over, the water cold, and the mirror wet from the steam that had solidified. Her hair floated in the water, long black strands._

_The call that came was far-away, even to me staring down at her, "Mum? Mum, you alright?"_

_Another call, "__Mum?" A choked voice said, and then a wand was pointing at the woman's chest. "Mummy? Eneverate!"_

_A soft whimper and I realized it was me before I said, "Eneverate!" And then a desperate bid, "Crucio!"_

_After that, it was a desperate chant, so fast I could hardly understand it, "Please, mummy, please, mummy, mummy, mummy come back, mummy come back, please, please, please, eneverate, eneverate, mummy, mummy, come back, please, eneverate, crucio, eneverate! Bloody wake up, Mummy! Crucio! Wake up, Mummy! Please, please, eneverate, crucio, avada kedava! Wake up!" And then it was just white noise._

I dreamed of dead bodies littering the ground, some of them in large piles burning slowly, of large, horses with headless riders that charged at me and then shied away, clods of dirt flying into my eyes.

_I couldn't feel my hands any more. The leather gloves were thick, sturdy, and scarred but I was gripping the reigns of Argo so hard, he shook his head. The snow was crisp, still falling and getting tangled in Argo's thick black mane. They reminded me of stars on a moonless night. The burning village made me shake with anger._

_These were my people and they were being slaughtered like cattle. My soldiers stood behind me, all of our armour gleaming in the fading light. The few remaining locals stared at us in awe. What a sight we must have made to them after the Barbarians had come to them in crude leather armour and ugly, scraggly horses._

_I could only see the enemy from the eye slits in my helmet, and I narrowed my eyes at them. Their armour was ripped where their arms met their shoulders, where their necks joined their heads and their swords were short and stubby. Our horses were taller and it would be a matter of timing to slice their necks off and chop their arms off. I raised my sword above my head and roared._

_The soldiers behind me raised their swords as well and their shouts joined mine as we charged. The constant slashing made my arm tired. The spray of blood that came with amputating them and chopping their heads off made my mouth taste coppery and my eyes sting._

_And when the last of them was dead, a woman came out. She was beautiful. Short, with dark hair, and the eyes the same colour as soot. Her stomach was swollen with child and she collapsed in front of me. I slid off of my black steed, took my helmet off so she could see more of me than my eyes and crouched in front of her. She stared up at me, and touched my eyebrow, circling my eye. I could feel her hands shaking and I swung my cloak onto her. "Wolf," She whispered, "The eyes of a wolf stare back at me, and I wonder if it will kill me and my child for being like them."_

_I lifted her hand up and kissed her dirty palm before pulling her up to her feet and placing delicate kisses on her face, and then bending to my knees to kiss her stomach, saying, in a voice I didn't recognise, "Always remember a king came and kissed you. Tell that to your child and be proud. Not many people take claim to being kissed by me."_

_She had the good grace to blush as ran her fingers through my hair.  
_

I dreamed of a love I'd never met.

_She reached for me, her tiny hands wrapping around my index fingers. Her fair curls, curious blue eyes, and button nose made me smile. A perfect mix of me and my lover. "Hello, fair princess," I said, picking her up. She stared up at me, and then babbled. I felt her before I saw her. She wrapped her arms around my waist and placed her chin on my shoulder before turning so I could see her light blue eyes._

"_She takes after you," She murmured. "Curious, needing to learn something. Her gurgles are very diplomatic."_

"_But she's so pretty, no one will argue. Much like another woman I know," I grinned at her and then kissed her on her mouth. It was very soft, and she kissed back and sighed a little. She took the baby from me, and swung her around as she moved, like the dancer she was. Like the woman I loved._

And then I dreamed of Death.

_Arrows were flying after us and I raced toward the tree-line, Sara in my arms. My beautiful little Sara, screaming. She was only two. There was no need for this, no need for them to kill her as they had her Mummy. As they would me. Another one struck my shoulder, going deep. I didn't even slow my pace._

_And then another notch of arrows, this to the front, and one hit her just as I turned. Her scream stopped abruptly._

"_Baby, please, be alright," I murmured against her hair. "I couldn't stand to lose you as well." She didn't respond._

I did, however, figure out how to stop a dragon.

_The dragon was huge. He stood giant, white, and a kingdom of his domain against the gold behind him. He'd stolen it from the people of my kingdom and I'd get it back, even if it killed me. After all, what else was there to live for?_

_Puppis shifted her hooves under me. She was still young, still green, and this was her first dragon. Luckily, her heart was stronger than Argo's and she never shied away as he had when he was still a colt. I pulled my visor down and pressed her sides with my knees. She charged, her hooves like thunder against the ground. I drew my sword, the jewels in it blazing in the reflection of his scales. He roared at us, but didn't breath fire. He was young, younger than I was, and there was no need to kill him. He would put up a bit of a fight, but in the end would huff and leave._

_The chestnut-coloured horse veered at the last second and my sword cleaved through the thin scales on what would have been his forearms. He roared in pain and lunged at me. Puppis stood on her hind legs, and my sword clashed against his belly, bringing with it a shower of sparks. He roared again, and his sharp teeth nearly crunched us in half. They were savage-looking, each thicker than my arm and sharper than my sword. A single tooth of his could make the strongest weapon in Briton. And then, I stabbed him in his eye. Blood gushed out of it and he knew he couldn't win against us. I was to experienced, my horse to fast. With one last stroke, my sword chopped his serpentine head almost completely off. _

_Despite the heaviness of their bodies, dragons didn't have bones. Instead, thick ropey muscles made up their bodies. They were rather like sharks in the respect that all you needed was a good, strong arm and a sharp weapon.  
_

_Why couldn't everything else be as easy as that?_

Why couldn't my problems be like that?


	5. Undisclosed Desires

Title: Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N: This was actually finished but I forgot to save it on my USB and my computer charger committed suicide, so I had to borrow my aunt's and start over. Sorry if it's a rough job.

Chapter 5: Undisclosed Desires

Thursday afternoon, we were summoned to Flitwick's class. Diggory seemed to think that growling at me was a proper form of welcome and Viktor, as always, nodded. The blonde girl did not acknowledge my existence, just as she had ignored me in the halls. Trying to decide what was going on in my head that I believed that I was other people, the constant pounding headaches, and the general animosity that had stepped up significantly since my name came out of the Goblet, made me keyed up, made me even more jumpy then before.

The buttons had been changed to display 'Granger Bites,' and a picture of a beaver on it. When around a teacher, they read, 'We Support Diggory!' It was a fairly easy charm, and I'd pinned one to my shirt to try to discourage them. It didn't work, but Moody said it was a good tactic. He also said throwing Malfoy out one of the seventh floor windows would be a good idea, but I didn't think that would go over well.

Ollivander stood in front of us. His pale eyes surveyed us and they lingered on me. It was probably because he'd seen me in the past millennium. A woman was also there, wearing acid-green robes, bright nails that looked well-sharpened and a sickly smile. She cooed at us, and said, in an obviously fake falsetto voice, "Oh, aren't you children adorable! Look at the little blonde." She pinched her cheek and the girl' glare was cold enough that she backed up relatively quickly.

She turned to the rest of us, "My name is Rita Skeeter and I am a reporter for 'The Daily Prophet.' I thought that, with this being the first tournament in over a hundred years that I'd get interviews from the Champions after your wands are tested."

She arranged us, with me in the front, and Diggory nearly in the back, most likely because he wasn't that interesting compared to us. The first Muggleborn to be admitted into the Triwizard Tournament, and the youngest, a part-Veela, and a Quidditch player were all better news than a Hufflepuff being a Champion. The camera man chewed obnoxiously and offered me a stick after snapping the picture. I took one and he nodded at me. It was, like most Wizarding chewing gum, cinnamon flavoured and nearly set my mouth on fire.

The reporter turned to me, "You, my dear, are sensational news, so I want your take on this first." She tried to grab me by the back of neck but the wand-maker cleared his throat. His dry, cracking voice made shivers run down my back, but he saved me from something potentially horrendous. "Ms. Skeeter, I'm afraid that Miss Granger needs to stay for the testing of the wands."  
He turned to Viktor, "Please give me your wand, Mr. Krum."

Vick handed it over with what could be considered a pout. The old man flicked it and said, "Fine."

He did the same with the other two. The blonde girl, apparently, had a Veela grandmother and her last name was Delacour. It was a very delicate name but he butchered the pronunciation and my French was much better than him, kept up every summer with a group of tutors that taught me the basic maths and language skills that I missed attending Hogwarts. My parents believed it would give me an advantage on other students, Muggles and magical.

The white-haired man lingered on me. It was rather creepy, especially with his pale eyes. Ollivander twisted my wand, as I always did when I was bored, but gold and silver sparks jumped out of it. He narrowed his eyes, took his own wand out and tapped it, mumbling something. He twirled it again, and gold and red sparks spat out of it. He turned it over to me again, and left, saying nothing.

The woman grabbed me again, and said, "Now, for your interview." I was shoved in the closet and she followed quickly, spelling the door locked. A piece of parchment was set aside, and a metallic Quick-Quill was set down. It started scribbling immediately. She smiled, much like a snake, at me, "So, you're the elusive Hermione Granger."

I sat on a crate, "I'm hardly what you'd call elusive, Rita, just because you haven't noticed me before. It's easy to get lost when my best friend never has a thing to say to any of you."

She glared slightly, but it faded into a smile, "Ah, a sharp tongue in your mouth. From what I'm told, you're the brightest witch of your year, and a Gryffindor to boot. There's a lot of hero material but hardly a model student, so I hear from your peers." She leaned forwards, "What do you believe."

I narrowed my eyes, "My peers have no need to speak for me, because, as you've said, I have a very sharp tongue and hardly the time to waste it on them. Exams, friends, books, home-work, are all more important than both this tournament and you."

A flush crawled up her neck and she yelled, "I'll have you know, that I can make or break your career, Granger! Everyone reads 'The Daily Prophet!' The minister subscribes to it. The bloody house-elves-"

"Use it as cleaning material," I said dryly. "They don't see the need in reading wizard news when they only want to clean and cook."

Her nails dug into her palms, and the quill quivered just before I snatched it and the paper. The quill was snapped in half and I put the parchment into my pocket. Rita's mouth fell open.

I smirked, "Bet they didn't say anything about that, either, did they?" I opened the door with a silent spell and ducked out. I turned to the rest of them, "Interviews are cancelled."

The blonde smiled at me and said, "Merci beaucoup." I could feel my ears burn up but I murmured a, "Votre accueil."

She seemed surprised at my perfect accent but most people often were. If nothing else, she smiled ever so slightly at me. The flame from my ears migrated to my face and I hurried out of the room. A little blonde girl giggled; obviously Delacour's relative, and called after my retreating back, "Smiled at you, huh?"

My trainers squeaking across the floors were the only answer she was going to get.

Saturday loomed ahead of me and I spun my wand around my fingers, yawning. I was exhausted, as I hadn't gotten much sleep last night, but I was afraid to sleep again. Last night had been a disaster. I'd woken up bawling my eyes out, between Parvati and Lavender. Apparently, I'd screamed, sobbed, and yelled most of the night, and I'd only started crying, but silently, when they'd gotten into bed with me.

There was no way I'd ask for that again, and I figured that maybe just a short nap would help me out. After all, double potions were next. I collapsed across my bed and started to count sheep. The only difference between the non-magical and magical ways was that you could conjure little sheep out of the dust and watch them count themselves.

My little nap turned out to be until just after breakfast on Saturday. Perhaps it had been a one-night thing, but I had the feeling that I wouldn't have slept that long if I hadn't been missing more sleep than before. Something was wrong beyond the usual, but I couldn't figure it out yet. With all the other girls gone, the bath was silent and I didn't have to endure any more teasing about my expanding physique. It was also a lot more peaceful and my headache was nearly gone.

Winky brought her tray of food, as she always did on the weekends and I ate quickly, before looking up defensive spells in my book. There was little chance of winning against them with my meager knowledge but it was worth a try. I hoped that we had to duel someone.

It would, most likely, be the only advantage I had over them. As Moody had told me, duelling had fallen out of favor with the nobility and the higher purebloods when Dumbledore had first become a student. They'd viewed it as a 'trait suited only to the lower masses who have no idea of class, nor any distinction in what is considered sport and the other, merely glorified fisticuffs.'

I'd read the entire tome and the only spell I thought looked promising would be the 'diffindio' spell to whatever part of it was closest before I was burned to a crisp. I dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt before I pulled on a beanie, a jacket, and wrapped a scarf around my neck. If I was to die, I would die comfortably.

The cold wind teased me, and it made my eyes water as I wandered the grounds. Lunch wouldn't be until noon, but it was just after ten. The grounds were extensive and no one ever really explored all of it, mostly because the Whomping Willow wasn't the only tree that liked to hit everyone. The saplings were particularly feisty and one nearly got tangled in my hair, despite the cap. I nearly broke it off with my irritation and instead, wandered in circles until I finally found where we would be competing. Large boulders were set out, the roars could be heard from here, and the stands that were set up looked particularly cold, especially with the snow about to fall.

The tent where we were supposed to stay didn't look like the tents we used when we went camping. It didn't appear to be suspended by anything, simply hanging about. A large, still tree stood near it and I climbed up to jump onto the tent, out of curiosity. It didn't even move under my weight and I laid on my back. The thick, gray clouds looked full to the brim of snow and hail.

Maybe I could convince my dragon to stare at the sky until it drowned under the onslaught of cold. There were only a few books on magical creatures that included dragons and it included the Third Year addition of the Care of Magical Creatures class. I'd given it to a very enthusiastic Muggleborn and told him the tricks to taming it, when he'd looked at it curiously at the Alley this summer.

I closed my eyes as the first snowflakes drifted down and melted on my cheeks. It was almost nicer sitting here and listening to the wind then it would have been at the tower. I was still tired and I drifted off to sleep. I woke up to the muffled sounds of cheers. I sat up and shook the snow off, pulling my hat over my ears. A boyish man in gold robes was using a spell to speak to them and I figured he was Ludo Bagman. George and Fred had mentioned him to me, saying he was a gambler but he'd paid them in Irish gold.

Bagman's rhetoric was very well suited and he introduced the older Champions. They were each received in a very loud, pleasant manner. I jumped down from my perch and waited for him to introduce me. It was dead silent and unmoving except for one dirty-blonde girl, who waved enthusiastically at me. I waved back, among the other's sniggering.

The French girl looked at me with a small smile. I cleared my throat and looked away as they lead us into the tent. It was a smaller copy of the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey hustled about. She turned to me, "I had better not see you covered in burns from head to foot, understand Miss Granger? Thirty percent and not an inch more."

I raised my hands, "I promise nothing. You're going to have to talk to whatever is out there."

She rolled her eyes, "I imagine so."

The flap to the tent was pulled open and the Skeeter woman came, the camera man behind her. He grunted and offered me another stick of gum. I took it and we nodded at each other. She turned to me and said, in her sickly-sweet voice, "I'm willing to scratch the interview from yesterday if you intend to behave."

I frowned at her, "Bugger off, Skeeter." I didn't behave for anyone but my mother and authority figures. She was hardly a human. The camera man gave a barking laugh, tossing his long hair and winked. Sirius smirked as she stormed off and followed after her. I'd known he was good at disguising himself but to infiltrate the Wizarding world's most popular newspaper and to come to Hogwarts, all under the nose of the Ministry was some kind of bold. At some point, he must have worked under Moody.

Barty Crouch, a ministry official, and Winky's ex-owner, came in and said, "Krum's up first."

Viktor nodded and left. We lounged around the tent, and I tried to see what I could do in my head. A diffindio to the eye would blind it and if I was silent, it wouldn't find me. My wand felt cool. So, that was a very bad idea. Most people didn't know it but wands were sentient, if voiceless, and if you thought out what you were going to do, it would warn you against it. Then again, most people didn't always have their wand on hand. What to do about the dragon then? An augumenti maximus would quench its fire, but only for a little.

I thought of Lupin's class yesterday, whose lessons had to start from the beginning because all Binns talked about were the Goblin Rebellions. In the beginning, the dragons had created the four elements. The dragons were all beautiful people, with hair the same colour as their scales and impossibly bright eyes. Then, they had created humans, who sought to capture them and kill them. The other three had drifted away but the fire dragons remained. The first wizards had messed up a vanquishing spell, so they'd been changed into their fire-breathing lizard form. But if dragons were once humanoid, then shouldn't a revealing spell tell what they were?

There was the animgus revealo spell, but that was for humans turned into regular animals. What about magical creatures? A new spell, then? The wand hummed in my fingers, and I stroked it gently, as I would Crookshanks.

"Veritaincantum revealo," hummed something in my head. Reveal truth spell, I thought. Another stabbing pain hit me and I rubbed my temples. It had almost been gone, I was certain. What could have set it off? Besides that, the idea was very speculative. I'd rather surround and confuse the dragon than anything else.

The Bulgarian boy came in, his eyes alight. A bulge in his robe meant that we had to take something, most likely from the dragon himself. Or herself, if you believed the shape of it was about that of an egg. It rather looked like Hagrid's one-time dragon, Norbit or Norbert or something to that effect.

Delacour left afterwards. In about ten minutes, she was back, her skirt singed slightly. It looked pretty that way, like black lace was hanging off of it. The egg was held tightly between her hands, and I wondered if it was heavy. At the least, it looked like solid gold, which meant that the dragon would want it.

They called Diggory, and after a short while I heard a bark and a yell. He came in, slightly burnt on one side. I swallowed dryly and licked my lips. I was next and although it sounded nice, what if I choked? What if I misjudged and my spell did absolutely nothing?

The French girl glanced at me and said, "You will do fine. I hardly think they will give you the toughest dragon."

I sighed and said, "Thanks."

Crouch stuck his head through the flap again and his bristly mustache turned downwards in a frown, "Get out here, Granger."

I ducked out and heard the roar of the dragon. Crouch led me to a clearing with a single huge rock and other, smaller ones. The other students were all silent except for a group of red-heads and something black; I assumed it was Harry, in the middle of the group. They yelled encouraging words to me and the blonde girl waved again. The dragon sounded rather like what I imagined a dinosaur to sound like. It was almost fifty feet in length and black. There was a slight red sheen to it and large yellow eyes stared at me.

Crouch turned to me, "You have to get past the dragon and steal the golden egg. It will be a clue to the next task. Good luck."

A whistle blew and the dragon's head swiveled in that direction before a jet of flame blew towards them. It was rather weak, as far as dragon flames go, and it burned the brush around the judge's table. I took that opportunity to walk silently towards it. The dragon roared again and flew up, only for the golden chains to draw it back.

The ground was a mess where its claws had raked the ground and it landed with a thump. It stared at me. "Geminio," I murmured, and several versions of me appeared. Each of them approached the dragon at the same time, moving in a counter-clockwise direction slowly and surely. I then cast the disillusionment charm and used it so no one could see me.

The dragon's head swiveled all around, looking for the real me. I made sure my footsteps were silent as I attempted to get towards the golden eggs. I rather felt like Jack in that Muggle fairy-tale, creeping pass the giant. The eggs were behind the boulder and I crawled over it. Once on the other side, the dragon blew a flame there and the rock started to feel uncomfortably warm.

There was no way the dragon had seen me, was there?

A roar sounded uncomfortably close to my ear and the disillusionment charm evaporated with my lack of concentration. I pointed my wand at its yellow eye and yelled, "Diffindo!" The dragon staggered backwards, pulling on its chains. I cast the spell silently, thinking of the words that I'd had in mind earlier. It pounded in my head, in time with my heartbeat and the words repeated themselves in an endless cycle.

Veritaincantum revealo, veritaincantum revealo, veritaincantum revealo, over and over again; just those words going through my head. The dragon vanished in a puff of smoke. I raced towards the clutch of eggs and grabbed the golden egg, only for something to fly and knock me on my back. My head knocked against one of the rocks and my vision was blurry for a bit. I shut my eyes and it feels like there's a banshee's screaming in my ear.

"Mobilicorpus," I gasped out and the thing on me was shoved off and crashed into something heavy. I caught my feet under me and stood. My hat had fallen off of me at some point and I shook my hair out of my face. Everyone was gaping at one of the trees and I turned to go to the tent when someone grabbed me by my shoulder.

I kicked whoever it was in the knee and continued. I wanted a bed and I wanted to sleep. My vision swam again, and I grabbed at my head. The wailing was back, and the egg falling and rolling innocently onto the snow. Now was not the time for the headache from Hell, especially when I hadn't even made it to the Champion Tent.

The wailing in my head was incredibly loud and seemed to drown out every other thought I'd ever had. I couldn't even focus on breathing; it was such a horrible noise. Eventually I felt something cool on my forehead and something cold was poured down my throat. Then the blinding white noise dimmed to nothing.

I woke up in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was sitting next to me and running her wand over my wrist. I tugged gently on it, getting her attention, and she turned to me.

Her wrinkled face turned upwards into a smile, "Very good, Miss Granger." I didn't know whether she was being condescending or not when she said, "Not a single burn even with the head trauma."

I sat up and asked, "What happened?"

The white-haired woman replied, standing and looking at a parchment, "You knocked your head very hard against one of the rocks there, and the spells you did were very high-level and intense. The combination of stress and trauma made you black out. And you need reading glasses."

She frowned at me, "Tell me you haven't been reading in the dark, Miss Granger?"

I frowned, ignoring her last remark, "What transfiguration?"

She turned to me, "Changing the dragon into a woman, of course."

I laughed softly, almost hysterically, and shook my head, "I didn't expect that to work. I just made a new spell for magical creatures."

The woman paused, "You created a spell."

I nodded, "Yes."

She looked at me and said, "A fourteen-year-old created a wand-less, wordless spell that revealed the true form of a dragon that is staying outside the Hospital Wing because it wants to thank you and give up the secrets of its gold and your acting as if it's an every-day occurrence."

I perked up, "The dragon's here? Can I speak with it?" Then I sulked, "I'm fifteen."

The woman nearly blew her top, "No, you will not speak to the dragon! You will rest and go to sleep and after that the dragon may bloody become your mate! I don't give a damn, just take this potion!"

The bright blue potion was shoved in my face and I drank it quickly. I didn't want to irritate her anymore than I already had. When I came to again, a woman was sitting on the edge of my bed. Her long black hair was hanging over the edge of the bed and she looked around her curiously, as if she'd never been in a hospital wing before. Her cloak was overly large and it appeared to be borrowed and lovingly patched up. She didn't appear to be wearing any clothes under it and it made my face hear up.

I cleared my throat and she looked at me. Her face was sharply defined and pale. Her curtain of hair was matched by a pair of eyebrows with little bumps over them and eyes an unidentifiable shade between orange and yellow. My mouth went dry as I stumbled over my words and eventually blurted out, "You're the dragon!"

Her mouth, a thin pale pink slash, curved upwards, "Yes, I am. I came here to thank you for restoring my people to our natural state. Now, we are being looked at for having our rights restored and considered sentient beings."

I paused, "Your people?" I had only meant to change her. That was why I was so tired, and why my headache had come on like it had.

She nodded, "Yes. Your spell has branched over to all the nations and the world was shocked to find that all the dragons were human beings like this." She gestured to her body with this last word.

I felt my face heat up as she leaned forwards and kissed me gently on my cheek. She leaned back and smiled again, "Thank you for that. I, and most of my counterparts, would love to give you the gold stores we have saved up. We will not take no for an answer," She added at my emerging frown, standing up to leave.

I leaned back and sighed as she left, closing the door behind her. Nothing could ever be simple, could it? That hate mail I was raking in from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would swell to most of the Wizarding community. Suddenly, I wanted a hug.


	6. Big Casino

Title: Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N: This was written in a notebook and then I typed it and edited it at school. I hope it's good. Thank Gore for the Internet however, because I translated part of this into French but I took Spanish. The English translation is in parenthesis.

In reference to something Hermione says, this is it, just take the spaces out.

http:/ /tvtropes. org/ pmwiki/ pmwiki .php /Main/ BadassBookworm

*******

Chapter 6: Big Casino

Sunday arrived cloudy and cold. I'd spent the night in my dorm, but I stayed awake, reading 'The Odyssey.' If I tried to sleep, it felt as if a heavy weight pressed down on my mind. I recognized it as a sign that my occlumency shields were at full force, working to stop the intruder. I hadn't been aware that you could perform legilimency without looking someone in the eyes, hence why I'd stayed up reading. This could also explain my dreams and I was going to Dumbledore about it as soon as breakfast was over.

Parvati and Lavender were already up but neither of them looked very chipper as we headed to the bathroom, me slightly behind them because I had to gather my clothes and towels. There were two, large communal bathrooms for the Gryffindors because there were less of us than any other House, which was why we almost never won the Cup. Snape took to many points for us to build them back in time.

The bathrooms were very archaic since Hogwarts wasn't exactly interested in redecorating and most wizards and witches acted like they lived in the middle-ages, except for the bathrooms, which had indoor plumbing. There was a large, stone bath that could fit all the girls with enough space to move without bumping into your neighbours.

Shower stalls lined the walls and most of them were in use. The older girls tended to get up earlier because they liked to put on make-up and glamour spells took a while to perfect. Statistics showed that the average witch would spend more than two weeks of her life learning and keeping up with the trends in fashion and learning and perfecting the spells.

I didn't think The Dark Lord could be defeated by finding the perfect shade of lipstick to go along with his skin-tone.

I showered, dressed, brushed my teeth and headed downstairs about eight. This gave me just enough time to eat and escape the stares before I headed to the fourth floor, where Moody's office was. He hadn't been at breakfast so I assumed he was here. My training still counted when it came to the martial arts and practice only we did it inside.

Nearly three hours later, he'd left me to continue with the enchanted knight until he lurched away when I disarmed him. I showered again and changed my clothes. I glanced at the mirror, only for it to say, "I think it's time for a hair-cut. There's a lovely salon down in **Janesville,** dear."

It was time to visit the headmaster. The stone gargoyle opened his mouth and said, in the headmaster's voice, "Password, please."

I thought for a moment and said, drawing my wand, "Move your stone arse." It sniffed and said, while hopping out the way, "Well, I never."

The long, meandering hall-way was blue and small mirrors lined it, each that made me look different. One was of my body with a baby's face, chubby with curls that stuck up, another of me as an adult, taller, lean, with brighter eyes, dark gold, and my brown hair was tamer, if still thick and messy, which curled around my face. I wore slender, grey glasses that made my eyes seem darker and my skin paler. A sword was swung partially over my shoulder and I tapped it against the tree I was leaning on as I read before looking up at me. I looked like a bad-arse bookworm and smirked before sticking my tongue out at the mirror, which reeled back in shock, surprised at me.

I pushed the door open a crack and could hear an argument going on. I slid into the corner, pulling myself up using the frames of the mirrors to place myself on an empty shelf. This had, obviously at one point, been a closet and slender shelves lined the four corners. I could hear the conversation somewhat and perked my ears up to distinguish the voices and the words.

There were four people there, that I could hear, Dumbledore, Snape, Flitwick, and Lupin. The parchment in my pocket, the one I'd taken from Skeeter, heated up and a quill began to scratch out what they were saying on the inside of my pocket. So the parchment was enchanted, not the quill itself. Perhaps she was smarter than she looked.

I put them on the small edge of shelf-space left and watched the debate fold out.

Flitwick: - Be one of the greater pieces of magic ever performed in the past few millennia besides Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Righteousfield being erected and you want to punish the girl, Severus!

Snape: I didn't say 'punish' Filius, I simply stated that perhaps binding her magic until we find a suitable spouse to counter-act her displays of wild magic would help or she could gain enough control. I can hardly teach some days, she gives off such an aura!

Lupin: That's hardly fair to Hermione, Severus, and you know it. What if she never marries, or there's no suitable match? You expect all that power to just sit there, biding its time?

Flitwick: And what if it's an emergency situation, Severus?

Snape: I hardly think The Dark Lord would come to Hogwarts and attack us, whether Prophecy Boy is here or not. As far as he is concerned, Miss Granger is irrelevant.

Dumbledore: And what about her, Severus? Forget Voldemort, forget Harry Potter, forget your animosity to her parents, long dead, and think. Several of her House-mates have complained about her nightmares and they're increasing. D-Day is coming.

All but him, and more people besides the first four: D-Day?

Dumbledore (chuckles): Muggle trivia. D-Day was what they called an unnamed day on which an operation or offensive was to be launched during war.

Lupin: War? I was just suggesting that we tell her the truth.

Dumbledore: My dear boy, what you are suggesting would be war, don't you understand? The truth always leads to war, and as our history teacher, you should know that. Do you really feel that this is what she needs to learn when the only parents she has ever had are separating, most of the school hates her, and the entire Wizarding world is clamouring for her attention? The owls will not stay longer than tomorrow and the flood of letters will not be stopped.

Lupin: If nothing else, it will give her courage in the face of danger, to know her parents died for a reason.

Died? What were they talking about? Why did they need to bind my magic, preparing for war, letters from around the world, telling me the truth? They were talking in riddles and I didn't like it.

Flitwick: Let's stick to the topic, understand? The binding won't work, anyways. When I went to visit her when the letters went out, her parents say she was already controlling it. She'd found a stick and was using it to make things happen.

Dumbledore (chair creaking): You never mentioned it, Filius. What kinds of things was she doing?

Flitwick: Just childhood pranks. Making dogs climb onto roofs and making cats run away of the children that teased her, stopping the car from moving if she didn't want to go somewhere. She placed a silencing charm on her father's bird so it would stop mocking her. She placed a very rudimentary notice-me-not so she could sneak into book shops and read to her heart's content.

Moody: A wonder she picked up on duelling so fast! She's been defending herself for so long, it was simply the next step.

McGonagall: Albus, you don't think she's like You-Know-Who, do you? He was friends with all the magical creatures he came into contact with and was always trying to free something when the girls weren't swooning over him.

Dumbledore: I don't believe so, Minerva. As far as I can tell, she's the one doing the swooning and it's only been the dragons so far.

Snape (pacing back and forth): That's why I suggested binding her magic! What if she gets older and something doesn't strike her fancy? She'll fix it as she sees fit and The Dark Lord was like that at first, and you know it, headmaster!

Dumbledore: Severus, I trust Miss Granger. If ever there was a problem, I have no doubt she would come to me before taking matters into her own hands. I think it's time you all left. This debate has gone on long enough and it's nearly lunch time.

There was a general murmur and all of the teachers left, except for McGonagall.

McGonagall: Headmaster, I didn't want to tell you with the others there, but Miss Granger has been having nightmares since before this year. The other girls tell me she had nightmares the night before Professor Quirrell went after the Philosopher's stone, when the Chamber opened, and the night before the Champions were picked.

Dumbledore: Do you think they are prophetic dreams, Minerva? I know you don't believe in divination, but seer's are something of a different breed, aren't they?

McGonagall: I don't believe so, Headmaster. Some students just take to Hogwarts very well, and the castle alerts them as she sees fit. However, Moody has been letting her do occlumency by herself and I hate to say it but it seems at night, her mind reaches out, takes bits and pieces of others dreams, and turns them into nightmares. It seems as if she's been doing this for while though, which is why Severus is so abject to her in classes. It looks as if a blocking spell is on her mind. Besides that, I'm worried about her and Mister Potter. They're as close as Sirius Black and James Potter, if not closer, and you remember how that turned out.

Dumbledore (sighs): Very well, Minerva. I will look into it. You may go now.

McGonagall left and closed the door behind her. I watched her leave out the passageway, before deciding it was clear. I folded the parchment and put it and the quill into my pocket before I dropped from my perch to the floor soundlessly.

I knocked on the door and heard his muffled, "Come in."

I entered the office and immediately thought of it as crowded. Shelves lined the walls, filled with small, silvery instruments and his desk sat large and imposing. Behind it, a row of portraits stared at me before they began to whisper.

Surprise flashed in his blue eyes before he smiled a little, "Miss Granger, I wasn't expecting you. What a surprise. Sit, sit down, please. Is this a social visit, or are you experiencing trouble?"

I sat on the plush chair and said, getting right to business, "Professor Dumbledore, are you aware that Professor Moody has been teaching me occlumency?"

He replied, "Yes, I understand you are doing quite well. Quite the achievement for only being a fourth-year, Miss Granger."

I nodded, "I thought it might be best to tell you that for several days, I've felt someone on my occlumency shields. They haven't gotten through, yet, but warning you seemed the best course of action."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and said, "Thank you, Miss Granger. You've always seemed a very intelligent young woman, and you've proved that time and time again."

He reached to his desk, pulled out a tin of lemon drops and popped one in his mouth before offering me one. I took it and grimaced. They were sourer than I expected. He continued, "I have to say, I've never given you as much attention as I have your peers, mostly because you have a good head on your shoulders and don't need quite as much guidance. I've always trusted you to come to me in a time of need, and you've proved that, once again."

I said, "Thank you, Professor." There wasn't much more praise beyond the wizard who knew everything telling you he thought you were a good person.

Dumbledore pulled a small photo out and rubbed his thumb along it affectionately. He glanced between it and me before he sighed and muttered, almost to quiet for me to hear, "Courage, old boy."

He looked up to me and the twinkle seemed to die before he said, "I have some news for you. Please remain calm." He licked his lips and gave me the photograph, "Tell me what you see."

I took the photo and stared. A group of five stood in front of a slightly younger Hogwarts. The first three, I identified as Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter, and Sirius Black. The other two appeared to have snuck into the photo, grinning in a silly way.

The boy was slightly taller than Sirius with hair that would have been curly if it hadn't been overly thick with dark gold, almost light brown, eyes and a noticeable overbite. The girl reached his chin with long black hair, dark eyes, slightly Roman features but mostly English with an olive skin-tone.

The boy wore the light blue robes of a student interning with the ministry, and the girl the green-piped robes of a student healer, both banned in 1978 due to Death Eaters targeting them and their families. Over half of the students in the programme had been killed and their families had been run out of England. The other half had never been found.

My hands were perfectly steady as I flipped it over and looked at the names.

'From left to right: Lily Evans, James Potter, Sirius Black, Artemis Granger and Janet Cartel (Last two and first two engaged).'

I swallowed and said, "I see Harry's parents, his godfather Sirius Black, and another young couple that look as if I could be their child." My voice was as steady as my hands had been.

The professor took his glasses off and he replied, "They were. Janet Cartel and Artemis Granger were both Muggle-borns, so that is the same at least. They were both intelligent and fine examples of Gryffindors, upholding the honour to the very end. They were in the year ahead of Mr. Potter's parents." He didn't have to tell me how they had died or why I had been a secret. Death Eaters were not above killing children.

My hand not holding the photo clenched so hard I could feel my nails dig into my palm. I'd been meaning to cut them but hadn't had the time so I could feel the skin split and blood run down my fingers. I told him, "I think it's time I leave, Professor."

He nodded, I threw the photo on his desk, and left before anything else could be said.

I avoided the main hallways as I headed outdoors, wanting to be left alone. There was no way I would be able to stand being around anyone right now without blasting them to pieces like Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts.

It was so cold outside that my breath came out in clouds and I flopped in the snow by the frozen lake. My tears froze before they could finish falling down my cheeks and the blood on my hand would fall and freeze once it hit the snow. I wiped my tears away, feeling nothing as they ripped away bits of my skin, and sat in the snow drift, unmoving and unfeeling.

I cursed Dumbledore for revealing this to me, my 'parents' for not telling me the truth, Lupin for suggesting the damn thing, and Snape because if I was handing out curses I wanted him to get his fair share, if not more.

It got cooler and darker as I sat outside, thinking. Everything I'd ever thought was true was a lie, and not even a very good lie at that, and they'd dumped the truth on me like it was nothing. The foreign students starting walking passed me, going to their dorms. They ignored me as if I was a part of the scenery and continued on their way.

Eventually, Delacour walked past, alone as always. I'd noticed that in the halls, she had followers but rarely interacted with anyone but the little blonde girl and the occasional polite word when it couldn't be avoided. She stood in front of me and cocked her head inquisitively before asking, in her accented English that sent shivers down my spine, "Are you alright?"

I shrugged at her and laid on my back, staring at the sky. When I was younger and my grandmother had died, Mum, no, Susan, had told me that every dead person was a star in the sky and that the constellations were families so close they couldn't be separated. Now, I wondered which ones were my parents.

"You are the fourth champion, yes?" The blonde girl asked. I nodded and she continued, "I recognized your hair. It is very... distinctive. You did very well on the first task."

I replied, sincerely, "Thank you. You're the first to say that." Truthfully, she was the first to say anything at all about the task to my face today, although that might have been because it had been buried in snow all day.

The snow muffled her impact as she laid on the snow next to me. Her long hair brushed the side of my face and it felt as if a line of fire had been placed there. Her bright eyes turned to me and she asked, curiously, "Faites-vous ceci souvent?" (Do you do this often?)

She took it for granted that I spoke fluid French, instead of just having perfected the necessities. At least now, I could understand why people followed her. Her voice was soft, softer than in the room, and like a gentle, welcoming breeze to my ears after the silence of my classmates and the suspicious whispers of the faculty.

I shook my head, "Seulement dans les temps de détresse." (Only in times of distress.)

She laughed and it sounded like tinkling bells, "De que devez-vous est affligé ? Vous êtes seulement une petite fille et vous devriez être heureux. Beaucoup ne devrait pas être placer sur les épaules aussi mince que votre." (What do you have to be distressed about? You are only a little girl and you should be happy. Not much should be placed on shoulders as thin as yours.)

I tossed snow on her as I would a friend and said, "Cela est comment le ce devrait être mais le monde est rarement qui le type maintenant le c'est?" (That is how it should be but the world is rarely that kind is it?)

She thought for a moment and said, "Je suppose alors, mais peut-être vous devriez le profiter au maximum de, si pour le bien d'apparences. Vos amis ne seraient pas heureux d'entendre des mots aussi sombre que cela." (I suppose so, but perhaps you should make the best of it, if for appearances sake. Your friends would not be happy to hear words as sombre as that.)

I shook snow from my hair as I stood up and started to walk towards the castle, "Quelquefois je pense que mes amis font améliorent pour ne pas entendre de moi à tout." (Sometimes I think my friends would do better to not hear from me at all.)

She called after me, in English, "Then they are not your friends. If you need to talk to someone just ask for Fleur."

Her name was Fleur. It was a beautiful name and fitting for the most beautiful girl I'd ever met.

The halls were nearly empty and I felt colder here than I did outside. Perhaps it was her presence that made all the difference.

The common room was warm and bursting with sounds but quieted to nothing as they saw me. Even Harry and Ron avoided my hurt gaze, staring at the empty space between them. I sighed, softly. A first-year tried to throw himself out of the way, but his year-mates threw him in the way, as if I would attack and I stepped over him as I headed to the stairs.

I stayed under the hot, scalding spray until my skin was red and felt stretched beyond measure. I dried myself off, put my pyjamas on and crawled into my bed. I pulled the curtain to give myself the illusion of privacy. The sheets were cold against my skin. I stared at the drawings taped to my wall, trying to find some significance in them, and I could hear Parvati and Lavender talking.

Parvati was saying, quietly, "That was kind of mean, wasn't it? Maybe we should be nicer to her, with everyone saying she's an agent of You-Know-Who. No one has to know that we're being nice to her here."

Lavender said, furiously but quietly, "Don't give the mini Death Eater an inch. For all that time, she was hanging out with us, pretending to be normal but did you see her yesterday? She was doing spells most of the seventh years couldn't and she wasn't even trying. She's been plotting and now that she's finally showed her hand, try to avoid her like the rest of us."

The brown haired girl stormed off and I heard Parvati mutter as she prepared for bed. Finally, she whispered, "Good night, Hermione."

I waited until Lavender was back in bed and their breathing was even before I whispered back, "Good night."

Perhaps I would have an ally when the time came, after all.

My dreams were shadowy, all darkness and the glint of metal under light. Thankfully, that could be chalked up to going without dinner or lunch yesterday and staying out in the snow without even a jacket.

The other girls remained silent around me, excluding me from conversation and ignoring me as I walked pass. I'd looked for Fleur but she wasn't there, and that made me angry all over. Breakfast was silent in my immediate area until post came. The owls that usually fluttered all over the hall focused on me and delivered hundreds, if not thousands, of letters. The other students murmured then quieted as they realized I was still there.

The Howlers I took care of first, slicing the tops off of them and reading them so quickly, it looked as if I glanced at them. The angrier I was, the faster I read, and the more accurate my spells were. Most of the letters followed this template:

'Dear idiotic mudblood,

You shouldn't have done that. Dragons aren't real people. May you rot in Hell.

Signed,

Concerned wizard, witch, parent, child, ministry official'

Some of them were very stupid, some only mildly idiotic but each and every one of them increased my ire. Before breakfast was over, those letters started to burn in my hands and I'd read all of them. The letters that were normal looking, I placed warning charms on. It would tell me whether something was dangerous or not based on colour. The majority of them flashed red so I put those in a pile and cast an incendio on them. The floor was scuffed black where that was.

I could tell Snape took delight in his call, "Ten points from Gryffindor for magic outside of the classroom."

And what was left were the letters from the dragons. Most of them thanked me in old English and sent me gifts. The gifts, which came on brightly coloured foreign birds, were typically gold and silver, occasionally inlaid with jewels and I threw them into a pile that was taller than the table was long. By the last letter I was angry, tired, and frustrated at the envious looks I was getting. You either envied and hated me or ignored me; there should have been no middle ground.

I stood up and said, the entire hall staring at me as I walked out, "Have a go at it. See how many fingers you have left."


	7. Yellow

Title : Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N: According to the internet Maimeó is one of a few Gaelic words for Grandmother. It was the shortest one, so there's your reasoning.

********

Chapter 7: Yellow

I was really reconsidering my stance on no sleeping potions. They were addictive and dangerous if taken without the proper supervision, but I wanted one night, one where I slept all night without screaming, crying, or sweating like it was the middle of summer with a snow jacket on. If this was what being a teenager was like, I would rather skip it.

I did, however, learn something interesting. The 2nd task was scheduled for February, when the Centaurs claimed the lake wouldn't be frozen over, and it was to rescue someone from the bottom of the lake. I was glad Winky was such a dedicated, and nosy, house-elf. She'd been so full of herself that even Dobby hadn't found her much fun. At least I'd gotten her to stop drinking.

With that task out of the way, I now found the need to simultaneously hide myself from the stares, the whispers and the malevolence and stay with Fleur. There was just one little problem: She was always in the spotlight. Even when she was trying to be antisocial, and it happened more often than anyone liked to admit, people searched for her, watched for her, tried their hardest to integrate her into their conversations.

I was glad I was popular in the negative sense.

She had talked to me a few times since then and she'd proved to be a nice person, which was even worse for me. If she'd been a jerk, I would have had an excuse to not talk to her and distance myself from her before my attraction grew to much to handle. At least I hadn't had any naughty dreams of her. I didn't think I would be able to look at her without turning into a puddle of goo, or a stuttering idiot.

This I thought of as a blessing and a curse, because now I had experienced the sweet side of her. I would treasure those times when it was just us, the sunlight glinting off her hair like so many ice-crystals and her eyes pools of an impossible shade of blue. I'd say they were ice-blue but ice, in my experience, was usually so thick that it was closer to black, rather than the purity of her eyes. All the lakes I'd seen were usually blacker than they were blue, and pool blue was a very impersonal colour. I just called them 'blue' though; let the technicalities belong to her fans.

With the rest of the schools ignoring me though, I was no longer needed for tutoring and I could work by myself for myself, and I'd ordered the fifth and most of the sixth year books for studying since I was nearly done with the fourth year books. It was a lot more interesting and comprehensive to do the exercises in the books by myself than it was for me to do them in a class and wait for the others to finish. If my calculations were correct, I would be finished with them just before summer break if I didn't study during Easter.

I was so into my studies, and Fleur when I could catch her, that I didn't even recognise that Christmas was coming up until Mum sent me the customary Christmas card. They were sent to everyone in the family so my receiving one marked about a week until Christmas break. The picture of us, taken in the Swiss Alps over the summer with snow everywhere, smiling somewhat, dressed in ski gear, was perfect for this time of the year and I put it in my trunk. The next day, a letter came from Dad.

'Dear Hermione,

Your mother and I have decided that getting a divorce is counter-productive in our efforts to get you to open up to us. Besides that, your mother has given up her less risqué endeavors and I think that we should be able to repair our marriage. We loved each other once and should be able to do so again. As it is, you won't be able to come home for Christmas unless you want to stay with one of your aunts, uncles or Maimeó. We should have you for Easter, though. I think we're going to the Caribbean.

Love, Dad'

I then decided that, although my parents weren't my parents and had lied to me for over fourteen years, I would ignore that and treat them the same. They weren't the reason why Artemis and Janet Granger had been killed. There was no reason to be angry though. No amount of anger and grief would bring them back to life and I would have to resign myself to that.

This mature reasoning was only reached after I'd trashed the third floor's girls bathroom after a particularly bleak dream.

_The corridor seemed endless. It was thin and my shoulders pressed against the sides. The carpet was rough on my bare feet, as if it'd been pulled up from one place, then the fluff was ripped off and replaced wrong side up then slapped in place with a bit of gum. There was no light to show an end, nor were there any marks to show that I was close to the beginning. It was just one long tube._

"_What a horrible way to live," A voice whispered in my ear. It was to soft to hear any distinguishing factors to it, such as an accent. It was feminine, silky in a way, like a caress to my aural cavities."To just to go on and on with no end in sight but no way to go back to the beginning."_

_It slipped out before I could think of anything else, "Sounds like life to me."_

_The whisper again, much closer, more intimate in a way, "Yes, it does."_

_Arms wrapped around me, a head placed on my shoulder. Magically, the walls expanded as they will in dreams, the pressure no longer as tight, even though there was still no light to make out who this person was. The person pressed against me felt cool to my high body temperature, and moulded themselves against my back. It was as if we were one being, but separated into two bodies that had finally found their way together again. _

_I could feel breasts, the little, hard nubs rubbing against me, and the slender arms around my waist, giving me both a comforting feeling, and the feeling that nothing good was to come from this but she wouldn't give up on turning me. From what, only my subconscious knew. There was no muscle development, just the cool, smoothness of the girls' body against mine. It was the only thing that didn't feel rough, didn't feel wrong, I suppose is the word._

_The voice, seductive in it's tone, but this time louder said, "They say the easiest things to do aren't right, lovely. I'm afraid the rumours about me are right."_

_I recognised her now, and closed my eyes as she spun my around until my head was tucked under her chin. The air hurt going in and hurt worse going out. It was painful to touch her and worse to leave her but I had to know._ _She smelled very good, indescribable really as I'd never actually smelled her, and asked, tears leaking, "What do they say about you, Fleur?"_

_She lifted my chin, wiped my tears away with her soft kisses, steadily coming closer to my mouth. My eyes remained closed, treasuring this for as long as it would last. Her last kiss lingered, soft against my lips, tentative a good word before I responded weakly and she pulled away, a hole where my heart was as she said, "I'm terribly easy to undress."_

I'd meant to just walk around, maybe lose a few points, to cool off, to get rid of the burning in my eyes and the pressure on my rib-cage. My hands kept curling up into fists and wouldn't obey my brain to stay unfurled. I stepped into the rest-room and lashed out.

I punched the mirrors, which gasped and whispered brokenly from their positions as glass fragments on the floor, until my hand was nothing but a bloody mess. I kicked the doors until they were wooden splinters and the toilets became shards of white metal. I was so angry, so unbearably sad and unable to move past this, the dreams and the loneliness and the whispers and Fleur.

It all came back to her. Always her.

So this was love. What a shitty experience.

It was Fleur who was making me feel all of this; the highs and the lows, the coolness and the heat. The jealous looks and her constant taking of my heart to have me go fetch. I'd seen her eyes. She knew how I felt and the glimmer of amusement when she looked my way was heartbreaking.

And the worst part of all was that I didn't want it any other way.

When I was like this, Fleur was practically mine in a way, even if it was just in my mind. If that was the only way I could have her, then so be it.

I would rather have her from afar than to ever look her in the eyes and see her pity.


	8. Let Go

Title : Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N: This one is a bit more plot and a lot more angsty!teenage!Hermione and focuses a little more on why she's like this instead of in the books. (I always wanted to do that with the exclamation points. Ignore me.) Oh, and religion. Just a slight warning.

********

Chapter 8: Let Go

Moody paced in front of me, his wooden leg thumping loudly each time, as he cursed loudly and fluently. His hands moved wildly before he finally growled out to me, "You need to learn to be an animagus."

I looked at him blankly, "What?"

He turned to me and slammed his hands on my desk, "Your not deaf, Granger. You need to be an animagus; that bathroom proves Hogwarts isn't the safe haven it once was. It's been almost a thousand years since it was built and wards fade, no matter the strength. It's probably still the most secure building in Great Britain but this is the first time the fixtures haven't fixed themselves after being destroyed. The Wizarding World does not have plumbers as you might have been able to tell."

I nodded slightly, thinking. Being an animagus would lend me much more freedom if I was something small and if I was something large, no one would dare think of messing with me. I wouldn't register with the ministry, as the records were public, but I doubted Moody had reported every little thing with them when he worked with them. I knew the transformation was notoriously hard but I didn't have a doubt that I would be able to do it. The benefits far outweighed the risks.

I focused on him, "I'll do it. But only if Harry can do it as well."

He frowned, "I thought you weren't talking to each other?" I flinched slightly. I may not have ever won any popularity contests but even I knew it was not cool to have the teachers know about my social standing and speak about on it casually.

Ignoring his remark, I continued, "If he and I were doing the same thing, then we would have to interact and later on that would be helpful."

He stroked his bristly chin and nodded thoughtfully, "I suppose that's right. I'll tell him it's detention while you look up how to be an animagus. I'm sure I can come up with some cockamamy bullshit excuse for you as well."

I think my jaw dislocated, "You don't know how to become an animagus? How the Hell are you going to teach me then?"

His brown eye crinkled as he chuckled, "I never said I was teaching you. I just said it would be great for you to learn."

Luckily, training was over for the day so I had some time to get the books and find Sirius. With the fifth and sixth year books came a complementary catalogue from Flourish and Botts. The fact that the catalogue was over a hundred pages long with no pictures helped deter anyone from looking over my shoulder at it. It looked more like an inventory list than anything else.

I circled several that had something about being an animagus, including the recently printed for a limited time only journals of Ellison Diamond, the first animagus in recorded history. The paper lit up and underneath the page I was on, the total appeared, also recommending tip. When that was done I wrote the titles out in a letter, stuffing the money in the envelope, to the store and wrote Sirius a short note that I would have another owl deliver.

I thought for a while on that, trying to think in code, before I finally penned down,

'Big Dog,

Survival is necessary now. We need to blend in with our surroundings again. We need your help to do it.

Small Lion'

When I got there the owlry was empty save for Fleur, stroking Hedwig's chest. I quickly opened a cage and gave the note to a barn owl, telling it in a low voice, "Sirius Black." It hooted and flew off. Hedwig's large, golden eyes were only open half-way but they got slightly wider at the owl flying off before looking at me and she gave a hoot, flying over. Her beak tucked behind my ear and she nipped me there a few times. I rubbed the top of her head and she gave a soft sound.

Fleur looked at me and smiled, "Bonjour, Hermione. Is she your owl?"

I wanted to kick my own arse. Here was the girl I was mooning over and had absolutely no chance with but I still ended up giving her a goofy smile and saying, "No, she's Harry', but I've known her since first year and I try to visit her once a week."

I'd always managed to keep my promise to her until this year. With so much going on, it was hard to break away and play with her like I wanted to. I'd almost gotten an owl last year, but I knew Hedwig would get all sorts of jealous to have to share my time, and Crookshanks had been alone and old, so I'd gotten him. Besides that, the two of them were friendly. He batted at her wings, she pretended to bite his tail, and they took naps in the sun when she was over at my house over the summer.

She came closer to me and replied, "My father always says owls are the best friends one can ask for."

I shifted the owl from my hand to my shoulder and said, "In the Muggle world, it's dogs."

She frowned somewhat, "Dogs? They are dirty creatures, I would not keep one in my house."

I shrugged the shoulder Hedwig wasn't on, "They aren't that bad. It depends on the owner, I think." And if they're human or not, I thought, Sirius coming to mind. That was the type of dog to pee on the shoes of your boss just to irk you.

Fleur made a humming sound, as if to reserve judgement on that one. It made the fine hair on my arms raise upwards. Luckily, Hedwig hooted in my ear and I raised the letter to her, rubbing it on her chest. She gripped the letter in her beak and I said, "To Flourish and Botts, please." She gave a muffled hoot and took off. The fading sunlight changed her white feathers and the snow into brilliant colours, staining them for those few minutes colours too pure to belong on this Earth.

I leaned against the railing, watching Hedwig fade to a blip in the slowly changing sky. I never felt as at peace with myself than I did watching the sunset. It made everything fade into mindless chatter, background noise, I suppose. It made my headaches disappear, my aches leave, my anger desert me, my feelings lock themselves up for a little while.

It told me that a world went on that I couldn't experience, couldn't appreciate as I was. More than the peacefulness and the lack of sound, it made me feel inadequate. It made me feel as if I needed to make up for some transgressions by learning more so I could get there, to that nirvana that only lasted seven to fifteen minutes a day, depending on my positioning around the castle.

That peace was shattered as Fleur leaned against the railing as well. I was, suddenly, aware of her in the most overwhelming fashion. I could feel her warmth, her arm just millimetres from mime, the positioning of her feet, the side of her shoe touching mine. I could imagine the fading sunlight on her hair and face, making her into a patchwork of colours, turning her from something mystical into something beautifully natural, the perfection of Mother Earth come to fruition.

I reminded myself to cut down on the poetry and seventeenth century fiction. I was becoming a romantic.

Fleur turned to me and I thought I could feel her breath ruffle my hair, although it might have been the light wind.

She said, "It is beautiful out here, isn't it?"

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and felt my chest cave in. I was wrong about her becoming beautifully natural. She was an unearthly beauty, a run away fae come to snare my soul. The sunset turned her pale skin pinkish, curving the shadows of her jawline to take her away from the sharpness she exhibited, purple over her eyes, making them seem even bluer. Her mouth was stained red, as if someone had crushed cherries in white fabric then poured the essence there, slightly open as if to drink in the perfection of the moment.

I licked my lips and I was sure I saw her eyes flicker to my mouth quickly before going back to my eyes, as I said, blurting out honesty as if it was all I had to give her, "It's the only reason I venture out after classes any more."

She raised her eyebrow and I blathered. I'd done exactly what Moody had told me a thousand times in a row not to do; I let a woman move me. Granted, his rants were usually peppered with healthy swigs from his never emptying flask, and I had to help him to his office more than once, but there might have been some truth to his slurred remarks to never trust anything with sexual parts. He'd said, "Women are right catty, scratch your eyes out for a slight, but men are dogs. Sell you out for any bone they can get."

I told her lots of things, most of it jumbled and in fractured sentences, stopping as if my tongue wasn't fast enough for my thoughts. I spoke not only in English, but French and others I was sure she didn't know but I didn't stop. I told her things I wasn't supposed to say to anyone at any time but I didn't care. Here was someone to talk to, that would provide a shoulder to lean on and was unbiased towards me. Here was someone that liked me for me.

I told her about my depression, my obsessions with studying and perfection, my parents who didn't understand me and loved me when it was convenient or looked good but were always gone when I needed them most, even as a child. I told her about being bullied, first in primary school then when I'd started taking classes at the high school for a while, then Hogwarts until Harry and Ron saved me. I told her about feeling inadequate and how my favourite things were the ones that made me feel lonely and sad when it was over. I told her about my dreams, the thoughts that came unbidden, my inability to connect and stay connected. I told her how school felt more and more like a formality to me and how one day I had gotten fed up with everything and that was why no one ever saw my wrists.

Eventually, I just stood there, crying silently, my hands wrapped around the rail so tight I felt my skin split and blood drip, my mouth still moving but sound not coming. I knew what I wanted to say, but it wouldn't come. Each and every word was planned in my head but my voice wasn't cooperating.

I still said it, anyway.

_They were arguing again. The A/C buzzed and cool air kept my infrequent fevers from becoming to much. Classical music played from my stereo, soothing but not loud enough to drown them out. I felt my hands twitch as something broke before my father shouted, "That's just it, Susie! She's not normal! She remembers him! She was seven, not some infant. She knows why he hasn't come around any more,why no one mentions him . She knows we're the worst parents ever, throwing our son out like that and telling him to never come home, just because he liked boys."_

_Mum screamed so loud my head hurt, "I will not have him come back here! He's going to corrupt my baby!"_

"_Look at her, Susie! She's not going to come home with flushed cheeks and a charming husband with a ring on her finger." I heard him sigh as the CD clicked to an end and his voice sounded so much more tired than I thought it should, "You saw her in France. Women, left, right and centre were all she could focus on if there wasn't a book in reach. Cutting off Othello more isn't going to help any further. All he wants is to talk to her."_

_Mum still had some fight in her as she growled, "She's still a child. We can fix her."_

_I could hear a lamp break as he said, in a quieter tone than her, "The way you tried to fix her magic?"_

_The silence was oppressive from here, as he continued, "She's a girl who likes girls the same way Othello is a man that likes men. You have to face that they are our children and we have to come to grips that they are abominations in the eyes of the Lord."_

_I gripped Crookshanks, burying my nose in his flank, thinking, Hypocrite. When was the last time you were in Church or mentioned 'God' without a 'dammit' at the end?_

_Mum's voice was cold, "Then they aren't my children."_

_And the alienation came to full mast. I spent my days in their silence, in the cold looks until I pretended to notice boys, at which they became buoyant and loving with me. I disgusted myself. I had enough money to live on my own, they couldn't take it from me, so why didn't I? Why did I need to stay with these people that hated me based on my preferred gender?_

_I missed my brother. _

_I missed Othello, who I wasn't allowed to acknowledge anywhere at any time, with his curly black hair and blue eyes who threw me in the air and called me the woman of his heart. I missed him and Theo, his boyfriend, who'd let me spend a whole week with them, eating ice-cream and reading and getting the affection I was so starved for, before Mum and Dad came off a trip and found me not there. He'd had to give me back or it was jail for him and I would still be with them. I recalled the fights, the shouts, the broken vases and lamps and dishes as they fought and the smell of liquor on Mum's breath as she beat me when I called for my brother to not leave me, please, not to let me stay with them._

_It jumped on me, as I was sitting on the stairs that summer, that it would be impossible to remain true to myself and lie to them. We would all be better off if I wasn't there, wouldn't I?_

_The knife was cold and the teeth bit into my skin as I sat in the tub. I closed my eyes swiftly stroked downwards, hoping I wouldn't be alone from now on._

And suddenly, I wasn't alone.

She hugged me to her, tucking my head under her chin, whispering to me. They sounded like lullabies and I felt her hot tears on my head, only slightly warm when they finally reached my scalp. I could feel all of her now and my sobs doubled, clinging to her so tightly I knew I would leave bruises on her sides.

"There, there." She chanted it, as if to soothe my hurt and patch what was left of me up, "There, there."

When I looked up again, it was dark. Stars were shining brilliantly, turning Fleur into the unattainable being again, making her features sharp and mysterious. I realized with a start that we were on the floor of the owlry, and she was the only thing keeping me from the cement floor as she sang quietly, probably to keep me calm, "It's all right cause there's beauty in the breakdowns."

It was probably part of something else but it let me relax and I sniffled quietly. I pulled away from her, wiping my nose with my sleeve. She tugged on my other arm and I surrendered it to her. She pulled up my jacket, then my long-sleeved shirt to a black wristband. She tugged it off to reveal the jagged, uneven, overlapping cuts. They were puckered up from the blade not being sterilized. She ran her long fingers over it and I pulled away.

When she looked at me, I looked at the floor and finally whispered, after feeling her eyes bore into me, "It's not right. You make them feel pretty when they're not."

She pulled me back to her, her chin on my head and she ran her fingers over them again, "They are pretty because they belong to you."

I didn't have anything to say to that and screwed my eyes shut. Something was causing me to flush, probably from crying, but it felt different. I would later realize, when I had time to practice my occlumency and sort my jumbled thoughts, it was my self-esteem, having taken such a continuous beating from toddler-hood that it had hidden under my obsessive tendencies.

We sat there for a long time, watching the stars and our breath puff out. Maybe this memory wouldn't be tinged with sadness, I hoped.


	9. If There's Any Justice

Title: Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N:

NAUGHTY DREAM. I'm sorry, but would it be puberty without the awkward, sometimes Freudian, dreams? I think not.

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Chapter 9: If There's Any Justice

_We were laying in a field. The grass tickled my feet and I was very close to going to sleep. Between the warm sun and the cool breeze and my full stomach, sleep was a very real possibility. Then Fleur rolled on top of me, tugging my shirt down, so she could bury her face at the hollow of my neck. From that point on, sleep was the enemy._

_She licked the area and I ran my fingers through her soft hair, making her purr. At least I assumed it was a purr because she doubled her licking, then sucked on it sharply. Her sharp teeth nipped at it and then she took my hands in hers, holding them at my side in her gentle embrace, and placed kisses all along my face until she was at my mouth. We kissed passionately and I got my hands free to place them on her slender hips, rubbing the skin there that her low pants didn't cover._

_Fleur ran her fingers through my hair, which seemed to magically smooth for her, and gripped tightly as my fingers ran underneath the pants to play with the lacy bow on the front of her panties as my tongue invaded her mouth._

"_Merde," She gasped against my mouth as I reversed our position then undid her pants and helped her wiggle out, moving my mouth to her neck and licking a path from where her Adam's Apple was supposed to be to her earlobe, which I sucked into my mouth. "Mon dieu," She murmured as my fingers slid under her underwear, playing with her neatly trimmed curls. I smirked against her neck and muttered, kissing her there, "You bet I am."_

I was starting to like this teenager thing. I was rather spacy with that dream rolling around in my head and was very pleased when Fleur walked me to the Great Hall, holding my hand, and kissed my cheek as a parting gift when she went to sit with her sister in front of everyone.

If I looked smug, too bloody bad.

The first thing I registered at breakfast, besides the spot where she'd kissed me, was that the newspaper was a travesty. Ten Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban, following the footsteps of Sirius, the now infamous lecher camera man, who hadn't had time to write back, and it was on the sixth page instead of the first like it deserved to be.

It made you wonder how secure Azkaban really was for the most secure prison in Britain and the second most secure building in Great Britain. Most of it seemed like media propaganda to me. Rodolphus and Rabastian LeStrange weren't the sharpest of tools, considering they were related to Crabbe and he was "the smart one in the family" if you went by Snape's comments, and I doubted Bellatrix had rescued them, especially if it really was as bad as they claimed. Besides, Bella was the type of bitch to leave a newborn child in a wolf den, according to Moody.

All things considered, weight and wind the major factors, the books came quickly. Hedwig returned the next day with three barn owls behind her with the famous box covered in brown paper. They ripped into the toast and bacon, drinking straight from the flask of water, which was rarely used.

I took my package upstairs. I was eager to start on this new knowledge, especially with my calculations having been wrong on the front with my fifth and sixth year books. I hadn't realized they would be so fascinating and in-depth; I'd read them all within the first two weeks and used them as a point of reference in my essays.

I'd ordered the whole of the seventh year books a week ago, but they were rarely in stock all at once so it would take a while for the collection to come. The animagus books were wonderfully informative if somewhat dry and in less modern English than I would have wanted. I took notes to prioritize my thoughts and wrote a list.

1) Be somewhere secure. Do this with someone you trust in case of emergencies.

2) Centre yourself. Be at peace with yourself and your surroundings. Let nothing enter your mind if it can be helped. If you cannot, then you may give up.

3) The incantation to change is a single word that you must acquire yourself during your meditation. Everyone's is different. It may take months or years for one to do it and seconds for another.

4) Relax your magic. Let it flow through you like blood and let it coat you. When you feel you are ready, do the incantation.

5) Allow your body to change without forcing it or being anxious for it to be over. Relax.

6) It's painful the first dozen or so times so just work on it.

That short list was found through half a dozen books, each focusing on a single aspect and not the whole, and therefore useless by themselves. And people said the book business wasn't lucrative. The journal of Ellison Diamond did not detail the transformation so much as the aspects you would not typically realize.

The animal was hard to control once you changed back and almost always lurked in your mind somehow, somewhat like the werewolves. He talked about compromising with it, allowing it bits and pieces of your life so it knew who was alpha. Diamond also mentioned a discreet tip that would allow you to know what your possible forms would be. At some point in the meditation, forms would be available. You would be allowed to wear them temporarily until your form established itself.

You didn't choose. The animal did.

My head ached slightly from the constant reading and I looked outside to see I had wasted the whole day, not even pausing for more than a fruit from Winky all day as I'd been too excited to eat breakfast and Hedwig had made off with my eggs and toast. Crookshanks laid on my pillow, his forepaws pillowing his massive head. If this was what he was like with his testosterone flowing, getting him fixed would make him an orange waste of space. I poked his side and smiled, "Your getting fat, Crooks."

He yawned at me, looking at me with his dull green eyes then purred as I stroked his side, watching the light on his belly.

I heard feet come in and a soft, hesitant voice, "Hermione? Are you here?" I pulled the curtain aside to find Parvati on the other side. She gave me a smile that matched her voice and lingered in the space between my bed and hers, right across from me. I sat up, Crookshanks lugging himself up to flop on my lap, and looked at her.

She bit her lip somewhat, "Moody's asking for you and I told him I would go get you."

She looked slightly embarrassed and I pulled my trainers on before standing. I was just past her when her hand reached out to take my arm. I turned to her and she looked at me with large, sad eyes before shaking her head and letting go. I heard her squeak as Crookshanks jumped down, his landing heavy, and followed after me.

I headed to the fifth floor, where Moody's office was, and entered. He was reading a letter but gestured for me to take a seat. I sat and suddenly I wasn't any more.

The world accelerated in the opposite direction from me and my entire body felt like it had never heard of gravity. I swallowed vomit as I didn't want it landing on me but it still came up. I landed hard on my hands and knees and retched. There was so much of it I was sure some of it was in my nose and I finally coughed without anything else being brought up.

I wiped my mouth just as a boot came at my side, catching me on the side of my ribs. I landed on my back and found masks staring at me as I tried to scramble up but the floor was slick and my trainers didn't have any traction. They were white and blank, just thin slits for eyes and flat slits for noses. The only one without a mask was Bellatrix. She was, without a doubt, very beautiful if skeletally thin but her eyes, which shifted around and danced with the idea of mayhem, gave her away.

They were dressed in the height of henchman fashion, meaning all black robes and black boots with steel-tips so shiny I could see my reflection. I reached for my magic mentally and blasted the one that had kicked me across the room into a wall with lots of spikes. I heard the tear of fabric and a grunt just as another kicked me then moved back into the ranks, unidentifiable in the sterile lights. I tried to think fiery thoughts but it was cold.

I could feel my teeth chattering and the scent of vomit was thick. Besides that, there was a cloying smell in the air, like incense or burning herbs. It was mildly distracting but no more than the mass of black approaching me. I could tell which ones were from Azkaban as they kept giggling and jumping around, dancing at times. I thought of what I knew about Death Eaters, which was pitiful, and finally figured they were so used to spells that if I attacked physically, it would be an advantage.

As one leaned down, probably to whisper something in my ear, I lunged. I shoved my shoulders into his middle, bringing him down and punched him swiftly in his penis. I heard his high yelp then smashed my other fist where his nose was supposed to be. Blood sprayed on us, the mask cracked down the middle, then two pulled me off. I kicked the one in front of me as fast as I could in the chest then threw my weight back on the slick floor, throwing off their balance. This gave me time to hook my legs under their knees and bring them to the floor as well.

Now that I was sweating, I thought of fire and about eight of them ignited, including my three on the ground. They rolled around, dislodging their masks, but it wouldn't go out. I flipped onto my hands then landed on my feet again. And then they got smarter.

About ten of them tackled me, crushing me under their weight and bringing me to the floor again. Since they were moving so awkwardly against each other, they hurt me without meaning to. I thought of doing a levitation spell and they were pushed off of me. I stood up and grabbed my wand from my pocket.

They tried to approach me as one again but a tall one stepped out and said, "I challenge the mudblood to a duel."

They all made gasping sounds as if he'd just sentenced me to death with no word from their master. I ripped a piece of fabric off of one of the cloaks and wiped the blood from my face as I stood before dropping it. He conjured swords and threw one to me. It was slightly lighter than I was used to and definitely sharper but I reminded myself that this was just like training. We stood facing one another then bowed at the waist, sword and wand held up as a show of good faith.

He had no technique, was my first thought. There was no grace or subtlety to his movements. He just lunged and hacked, or did spells but never at the same time. I did the binding spell soundlessly and just before he toppled over I sliced his neck off in one smooth motion. Blood pooled around him, making the slippery floor even worse. The swords disappeared and the Death Eaters finally got themselves together.

This wasn't a good thing for me.

They bombarded me with spells until I couldn't tell who was who and my mind was working overtime trying to decide who was better at this spell than the others and my shield spells were cracking. I was tired between the late hour and the uneven battle going on but I wasn't going down without a fight.

And then someone cast the killing spell. A shrill voice called out the incantation.

I wasn't Harry. I wasn't going to face that spell head on and expect some type of old magic to protect me. I hit the floor and screwed my eyes shut. I didn't want to die and I expected the guy the curse hit didn't want to either but a very fitting end for what he was trying to do.

This gave them enough time to rush me, stomp on my hand until I felt the bones snap and my wand break, then kick me until I couldn't feel any more. I was still conscious, which I think was the point because they beat the Hell out of the woman that tried to kill me, and strung me up to a wall. The chains were silver and burned my wrists badly, probably from some of the black magic hanging around, and they turned the lights off.

I only said one thing before they left me, "I like to sleep in the dark but this is just ridiculous."

The only answer I received was the door slamming.

-------Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry-------

Albus Dumbledore sometimes had to wonder just what the Hell he was doing as a headmaster, especially in times of crisis like the one brewing. The paper showed the ten Death Eaters mugshots, and he felt guilty. He'd been over all of these children but he hadn't been able to save them. His finger lingered on Bellatrix LeStrange and had to sigh. She'd been raised to be dangerous, to be ruthless, and she'd been brainwashed from an early age about that pure-blood drivel. A closer eye wouldn't have hurt. A dozen closer eyes wouldn't have helped, though.

The article was short, to the point where if you didn't read the newspaper front to back it would have been missed, and very vague. All it mentioned was that they had gotten their wands, the Dementors were temporarily incapacitated, and the Ministry was doing all it could to help. He snorted and tossed the newspaper into the fire. It briefly roared then settled down like a complacent pet.

Fawkes' head turned to the side before he vanished into a pile of ash. Albus frowned and looked at his complicated pocket watch before muttering, "It isn't time for you to shed yet. I wonder what could have happened?"

He turned to the portraits behind him and asked them, generally, "Does anyone know anything unusual going on at the school?"

They murmured negatives except for Ozymandias Heathcliff who wasn't there. He came back seconds later, and said, eyes wide, "There's been a kidnapping at the school! The Pink Lady just told me one of her students can't be found and they've asked the Map of All Things."

The portraits gasped at him and Albus asked, "Who? Harry? One of the other students?"

Heathcliff swallowed and answered, "The girl that's always with Potter."

"The youngest Weasley?" One asked.

He shook his head, "No, no the other one. With the mane and the big teeth."

Albus closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Hermione had been taken right from under his nose and it was already late evening. The Dragons would be right furious. He told a portrait nearing his time, "Tell the heads of house to put the children in the Great Hall and to round up the teachers."

He turned to the young phoenix, who was already growing up swifter than usual, and asked, "Do you feel like sending a letter?"

The bird gave a trill that soothed his old bones and he relaxed before taking one of his lemon drops.

'To The Dragon Community,

Hermione Granger, the student that reverted you to your original states and gave you the ability to change from a dragon to a human with a thought, has been kidnapped. We are looking into matters as I write you this letter but with your help we can find and rescue her much faster. I am aware that you have sent her gifts but whether she uses them is unknown.

If you wish to help, please write back using my phoenix. He answers to Fawkes.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)'

He slid the letter to Fawkes who vanished from sight. He slid a compartment of his desk open and looked at the picture of Hermione in a basket, giggling and clapping, and sighed, "It's just not right to have to lie twice to that poor girl, but I'll have to do it."


	10. World News

Title: Repeat In Various Forms

Author: The Best Name On The Site

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Summary: Was this what it felt like to be in love? As if the world began and ended with her and nothing else mattered? Was this what it felt like to have my heart broken? - Hermione/Fleur

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything else.

A/N: The tenth chapter, by the way, was finished April eighteenth. I haven't been able to get internet though, so I suppose it wouldn't matter to any of you.

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Chapter 10: World News

Harry stared at the ceiling of the Great Hall. He had never seen it in the early morning setting and found it very nice. The stars glinted dully, losing their vibrancy, the clouds were pale and insubstantial with the pinking sky behind them, the moon starting to set. It was so real looking he was surprised that the light didn't touch him. It was at times like this that he wished he'd stuck by Hermione. She'd been a great friend, his best friend if he was being honest, and he felt guilty every time she wandered into his thoughts.

He'd seen her those lonely weeks, trying to keep her head up but watching her proud eyes flicker with uncertainty, with hurt in them, then change to smouldering anger. He'd seen her withdraw from everyone, her shoulders hunch at the whispers, her rucksack tighten on her shoulders when the whispers changed to loud comments and it had always been on the tip of his tongue, to say, "Leave her alone, that's my friend."

But then he would remember his second year and how he'd been ostracised, how they had cut into him with a single look and he couldn't go through that again. So he'd sided with Ron (Like you always do when the going gets tough, a voice whispered to him, when it's between him and her you always pick him because he's simple and easy, you don't like layers, you're one-dimensional, you're a coward, a snake, a Dursley, you're not fit to be a Gryffindor, you're not fit to be a Potter), and left her to fend for herself. Someone will help, he'd thought. Someone always helps. The traitorous thought: What if I'm her someone like she was for me?

He swallowed back his loathing and felt the urge to leave. He was surrounded by traitors, by people like him that had labelled Hermione, had chosen the easy way out when Skeeter attacked her, when they had attacked her, and now she was missing. If it had been by her own devices, then he wouldn't have batted an eyelash, just wished for her to take him too.

Harry stood, tiptoeing around the slumbering teens and stepping over sprawled bodies before going to the room transfigured into a bathroom. He stepped into one of the cubicles, locking the door behind him before sitting on the covered toilet. Without the sounds of breathing and giggles and faint whispers from every direction he felt alone and wondered if this was what Hermione had felt every moment of every day when they had abandoned her.

----Hermione's Location----

I found it very awkward to chains on my wrists and feet chained to the floor like a wild animal. I could move my wrist manacles and my feet somewhat so I could sit on the cold ground, tucking my knees up to my chest. I'd tried to break them with my magic but they remained in the wall no matter what spell I did. The only reason I knew they were even working was the showers of sparks as they clashed against them.

This had gone on for a long time. I knew that I had slept, or rather passed out, because my eyes felt gritty and there was a layer of plaque on my teeth. There was no way I was going to use those charms on my teeth even with no toothbrush and I doubted the Death Eaters had even heard of dental care.

The pain kept me from thinking about the bodies, though. The scent of incense wasn't strong enough to cover the rubbery smell of burnt bodies or the slightly metallic fresh blood odour. I could feel the tendons of the man's neck slip through the sword, as smooth as a knife through butter. He would have died anyway, had I disarmed him, and much more painfully as were the rules to duelling, but doing it myself was something different.

You didn't have to kill him, a voice whispered. It sounded suspiciously French and appropriately sad, What if he had children? What if he was under the Imperius spell? How do you know he was doing that without a threat? I tried to ignore it but the other choice was for his head to start speaking. Then there were the burnt bodies.

They rolled around frantically, beating themselves but the flames just grew and grew, turning the room an eerie blue that licked that ceiling and danced ever closer to me.

I held my breath and let it out. I needed to think, not worry about them. They were dead, not coming back, and I could have a guilt-trip after I got out of here. They wouldn't leave me for long and I hadn't gotten any sleep or anything for my injuries. I racked my brains; waiting for someone might take months and I didn't want to spend any more time than necessary. That would be second year all over again and I remembered every minute of my frozen state.

I licked my dry lips, the bitter mix of bile and stale spit lingering in my mouth, just as I thought of Dobby. They said that House-elves were able to apparate in places that were supposed to be warded, didn't they?

My voice cracked on the first try so I called again, in a low tone in case they were waiting, "Winky. Dobby."

Twin pops made me flinch before a flickering light appeared in Dobby's hand. They screeched before I whispered, quickly, "Shut the Hell up and get me out of here."

They bashed their heads against the floor and Winky sobbed as Dobby wailed, "Dobby will shove his head in the bread box, but he cannot do it. Dobby will twist his ears until they bleed, but it's against a house-elves magic to go against a former master."

I shushed them again and they sniffled, looking up at me like scolded children, "Okay. Go to Dumbledore and tell him where I am, please?"

They nodded and popped out of existence. I sighed and tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling. Light was needed and I thought of the torches at Hogwarts, friendly and bright as I walked to the Common Room. "Lumos," I muttered and a weak light started to shine from the left of my head. I could see my hands, and sighed in relief. They were slightly swollen because of the tight cuffs and there was blood under the beds of my nails but otherwise were fine.

The light stayed with me for days. I was only aware that it was days because the light would fade when I went to sleep, I'd have to redo the spell and the bodies had started to stink up the place. After six times of doing this, the door opened and my eyes closed automatically. The small square of light vanished next to me and I hoped whoever it was didn't see it. Boots came clomping down and I resisted the urge to cover my ears. It was much louder and my ears were used to the unending silence outside and my thoughts inside my head.

A pale face peeked out at me from a swaddle of blankets from Bella's arms and it said, in a voice so high it made me ears squeak, "This is the one."

The witch smirked and set the travesty to the side before pulling out a knife and a phial. She grabbed my arm and pressed the sharp blade to the crook of my elbow. I was so out of it from not eating or resting properly, rather passing out every night, that my magic wouldn't even come. Blood welled out and filled the phial to the brim. She smirked at me and kissed the blade once she was done and exited.

Hours later, as I counted the seconds in my head and they were in the thousands, McNair entered with a jug of water. He put it down next to me, gave me a swift kick in my side and left. I drank like a woman possessed, so thirsty I thought my tongue would never get wet.

Just as I finished, most of it on my dirty shirt because of my over-zealousness, boots came down again. The new face made me shiver. This was Voldemort in his prime; a high forehead with rich, dark hair falling into his dark eyes and an aristocratic face, made up of planes so sharp your fingers bled. He was tall and pale. He looked much younger than I had expected; nineteen or twenty, not the sixty or seventy he was supposed to be.

He smiled at me, a way to calm me down, I suppose, and asked, "How is my little experiment doing?"

I found myself asking, in a croaking voice, "Experiment?"

His smile grew to be a chilling sight, "Of course you are, little one. Why else do you think I look the way I do? Why your power is the way it is? Did you really think all that was left to chance, to the fickle being known as Fate?"

He drew two wands from the folds of his robes and tossed one to me. I caught it in my manacled hand and felt the familiar thrum of power.

Voldemort continued talking, "Do you honestly believe that your just some dirty mudbloods child? I admit, Dumbles had a good ruse going on, even that glamour is half-way decent."

I repeated his words, like a parrot, "Glamour?"

He grinned maliciously, "Oh, he didn't tell you? My mistake."

The chains fell away at a wave of his hand and he helped me stand as if he were a gentleman. He led me up the stairs to a warm looking kitchen. It was cosy and clean, one female Death Eater cooking. She left without him saying anything and he sat me at the table, giving me another goblet of water and a plate of sandwiches.

My hunger had been non-existent and remained elusive even as they stared at me. I drank more of my water and Voldemort took one.

He was half-way finished before he said, "Nothing like a full-stomach, is there?"

I looked away, staring at the bottom of my golden cup.

I could feel his smile and he said, "No reason to be shy, little one. I am your creator after all. I know more about you than anyone else."

I clenched my teeth and took another sip before saying, "I'm a person, not a science experiment."

He nodded, "That I agree with. You are far more powerful than I had originally planned. I had hoped to just help jump-start the magical gene but, well, perhaps I went overboard."

Something started to burn as he explained, in that cheerfully crazy tone of his, "I mean, it's not like I had to combine the were-wolf DNA and put it in Bella's ovary, age it, then add the dragon blood and semen mixture and give birth."

Only one part stood out to me, "So I'm Bellatrix's granddaughter."

His nose crinkled, "Oh, no. I do not do grandma's. Your my heir."

-------Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry-------

Albus Dumbledore was very glad that he was considered an unflappable man. His staff was behind him, supporting him even though he was sure most of them wanted to flop to the floor and drink until they couldn't see straight any more. The Skeeter woman was taking notes, "Sam" hiding somewhat, taking the occasional picture. He wanted to as well but to much was riding on this meeting with the Dragons.

Their representative, Arwen Thunderroar, was standing in front of them, her subordinates behind her. Some of them had the look of most of his students, still chubby-cheeked and bright-eyed. Arwen did not. She was tall, even by dragon terms, with flowing black hair, facial features so bright they cut the eyes, and her orange eyes dared them to say something against her statement.

He swallowed and smiled at her, "Miss Thunderroar, as much as I would like to help, I am afraid that I am a man. This means that I must govern by the laws of my people and I can not, as much as I would like to, invade the surrounding area and search for my student." He told her, "I would need to get permission from my government, from the other governments and then enlist people."

She stared at him as if he were a simpleton, "I never said I was helping you. We only wanted to know what was to become of her. She's probably the most powerful of you and we didn't want any competition when we bring the world to its knees."

He opened his mouth to respond when there was a loud 'pop.' The house-elves collapsed at his feet and Dobby sobbed as Winky cried out, "Mistress has been taken by the peoples in masks! They is in Swizz land, at the Strange place!"

The dragons bowed to the elves and as one left his office.

Sirius summed up their expectations very well, for as much as he was supposed to be hiding, "We're fucked."


End file.
